


The Criminal Element

by SelVecantie (LilianHalcombe)



Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilianHalcombe/pseuds/SelVecantie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freed from her prison on the Vorlon world of Arias, Jeanne heads for Babylon 5, eager to claim the legacy left behind by her former masters. But she soon finds herself in trouble with not only security, but also a Thrakallan crime lord and his cronies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of my Babylon 5 stories (for now). It is a followup to "The Secret of Arias" and was written as part of the Virtual Sixth Season a fan project of stories to follow on from where the show ended.

OVERTURE

 

Security Chief Zack Allan stared bleary-eyed into the mirror that hung from the wall of his quarters. His tired, worn face looked back at him, reminding him again of how little sleep he had been able to scrape together over the past couple of days. The captain had been pushing him hard to solve the month long investigation into the murder of one of the Drazi ambassador’s aides, and he had a feeling she wasn't going to like his final report. Since the murder he had spent a considerable amount of his time trying to track down the killer, but all avenues of investigation had come up against a brick wall. No-one had seen everything and when he asked around in Down Below the usual rumour mongers and snitches had vanished... even before he had approached them. There was something sinister going on here, and he hated being kept in the dark about anything, especially when it related to illegal activity on his station. But, without any reliable witnesses to the murder the investigation was at a stand still. 

Of course, he could always seek the assistance of Colin Ferris, or one of the other telepaths on the station, to help facilitate a witness’s recollection. But, like his predecessor, Zack had no great love of telepaths, not to mention the legal problems such a move would have. So he was forced to rely on the tried and true methods used by law enforcement officials across the galaxy. Unfortunately, nothing he did seem to make much headway with the case and he was left with a dead body and a Captain who was expecting answers. 

Sighing, Zack picked up a comb and ran it through his unruly hair in a futile attempt to restore some sort of order to his crumpled appearance. Finally he gave up and, after picking up the few thin sheets of paper that made up his report, he left his quarters, heading towards the mess hall. After a meal more inhaled that enjoyed, he walked out of the mess hall and along the corridors leading toward the front of the station, catching up with Captain Lochley just as she was about to pass through the door into C&C. 

Spotting the papers clutched in Zack's hand, Lochley said, "I hope you have some good news for me, Chief." 

Zack grimaced. "I'm afraid not, Captain," he replied. "We still haven't been able to track down the murderer." 

"This just won't do, Chief," Lochley said angrily, almost snatching the report from Zack's hands. She quickly leafed through the pages, her frown growing deeper as she scanned each page. Finally she reached last page and looked up at Zack "This isn’t much use to me, Chief. I have to meet with the Drazi ambassador in an hour to inform him on the progress of the investigation and all you can tell me is how his aide died. It's been nearly a month. You must have a suspect by now." 

"Sorry, Captain," Zack replied apologetically. "No-one seems to be talking at the moment. I’ve checked all my usual sources, but they don't know anything more than what's already in that report." 

Lochley thrust the report back into his hands and strode through the open pressure doors in C&C, ignoring the cheery greeting from Lieutenant David Corwin, the officer currently in charge of the station’s command deck. Zack quickly scurried after her, following the Captain across the command deck to her tiny station off to one side of the main work area. "What am I going to tell the ambassador?" Lochley asked as she sat down, spinning her chair around to glare at Zack. 

"The truth," Zack suggested. "Tell Vizhak that you don't know who was responsible for his aide's murder. We try to solve every murder that occurs on this station, but, as much as I hate to admit it, there are always one or two that slip through the cracks. That’s what I told the ambassador a month ago during the initial investigation. It was true then, and it’s still just as true now." 

"Yes I know all about that, Mr. Allan," Lochley said grimly. "The ambassador spent nearly an hour in my office on Thursday, which was supposed to be my day off in case you’ve forgotten, complaining about your lack of compassion towards the suffering of his people. Right before he spent another hour complaining about how there was no justice for non-humans on Babylon 5. Eventually I had to tell him that I had another meeting to go to." She sighed, "unfortunately I made the mistake of promising to meet him again today, so I had hoped that you might have come up with something for me to show him this time. Preferably something that will make him go away and stop bothering me." 

"I've spent the past two days scouring the station, rechecking all the initial leads, but it’s the same as before. No-one wants to talk about it. Back when it happened, I had teams searching Down Below for a week looking for some sort of clue, but we came up with nothing." Zack frowned. "Anyway, why are the Drazi dragging this up again now? I thought even they would have forgotten about it by now." 

Lochley shrugged. "Ambassador Vizhak said something about the Shadak sending a new aide to serve him. I got the impression he thought they weren't very happy about what had occurred to his previous aide. He muttered something about Kri Maru. Do you know what that means?" 

Zack nodded thoughtfully. "It's a Drazi religion, one of the minor ones. They worship a god called Drubunka or something like that." Suddenly he laughed, drawing a few strange looks from the bridge crew. "So that's what this is all about," he said, a smile still on his face. "Vizhak doesn't care about what happened to his old aide. He is just upset they are sending him a priest." 

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Lochley said irritably. 

"The Drazi have a warrior culture," Zack explained. "They have a history of great warrior leaders, stretching back nearly three thousand years. The Kri Maru are one of the new religions. They preach peaceful cooperation, which doesn't really fit in with the way most Drazi think. Sending an aide from the Kri Maru is probably some form of punishment for Vizhak, which would explain why he is so upset. He's probably afraid it will make him look weak in the eyes of the other races." 

"How did you get to be such an expert on Drazi?" Lochley asked suspiciously. 

"I've arrested enough of them," Zack said with a grim smile. "I had to learn a little about their culture after four years." 

"Well, maybe you can go and speak to...." 

Another voice cut off the rest of the sentence. "Captain," Corwin called out. "I think you should take a look at this." 

"What is it?" Lochley barked, annoyed at being interrupted. 

"I have a shuttle of unknown configuration asking for docking clearance," Corwin replied, unfazed by the Captain's irritable tone. 

"What do you mean 'unknown configuration'?" Lochley asked, standing up and walking the short distance over to the main console to see what Corwin had found. Putting his rejected report down on the console near the captain's chair, Zack quickly followed after her. 

"I mean that it doesn't match anything on our record. Neither the hull shape, nor the signature of its engines, is familiar. Although the computer does suggest that there are some similarities with Vorlon vessels. Not enough for a direct match though, so it could just be a coincidence." 

"Vorlon?" Lochley exclaimed, leaning over the console to check the readings for herself. She hadn't been on Babylon 5 during the Shadow War, but after listening to the way the residents of the station spoke about the Vorlons, she found the idea that anything related to them turning up on her station as more than a little worrying. "Have you spoken to the shuttle's pilot?" 

"Just once, about fifteen minutes ago" Corwin replied. "She asked for landing clearance, and I told her to stand by. I've also done a thorough scan of her vessel and it doesn't seem to have the normal ident transmitter. It is also lacking a docking computer, which means the pilot has to land manually instead of letting the station's computer guide it along the navigation beacon. It makes for a slightly trickier landing than normal, but not overly so. I was about to grant clearance, but I thought that seeing you were here, you might want to be informed first." 

"Which one is it?" Lochley asked, staring out of the observation window at the scattered collection of transports and shuttles awaiting clearance to dock. 

"The small black shuttle over near that star liner," Corwin replied, pointing out a tiny shape, almost invisible against the background of space. 

"It looks too small to be a threat," Zack commented. "Something of that size could only hold one person, and maybe a little cargo if you were lucky, but nothing more." 

Lochley stared at the shuttle for a couple of seconds, but she was more worried at the moment about her upcoming meeting with the Drazi ambassador than the shuttle. "Let it dock," she ordered. "Babylon 5 is supposed to be a free port, so we can hardly refuse the pilot entry. I don’t see why you even needed to mention this to me." 

"There is one minor detail of interest, Captain," Corwin said. "I spoke to the pilot a moment ago, and she said that there was only one passenger on board, herself. But when I did the scan, the sensors showed two life forms on the shuttle, one was human, or at least I think it is, there is some sort of distortion that the sensors are having trouble with. The other is something completely different entirely, and matches nothing we currently have on the database." 

Lochley face brightened momentarily. "Do you think this is a first contact possibility?" she asked hopefully, already imagining a way out of her meeting with ambassador Vizhak. 

"That is a possibility," Corwin agreed, although he didn’t sound very convinced. "The pilot mentioned nothing about another passenger though, so if there is some new alien species on that shuttle, then either they don't want to talk to us, or don't want us to know about them." 

"A smuggler then," Zack said, watching the shuttle slowly manoeuvre into position alongside the star liner. "I don’t think some new race is going to send out a single tiny shuttle to make contact with us, especially one with a human pilot." 

"Some sort of alien plant life then?" Lochley queried. "Something that won’t survive the quarantine." 

Zack shrugged. "It’s happened before. You would be amazed by what some people try to bring onto the station. We’ve already got vermin from a dozen worlds crawling around the lower decks, but there is always someone who tries to sneak some new species past customs. I’d probably better go down and take a closer look... just in case." 

Lochley frowned. "I was hoping that you would talk to Vizhak for me. I don’t really want to waste another morning trying to explain why we haven’t found the murderer yet." 

"This could be important," Zack said, jerking a thumb in the direction of the shuttle. "We don’t usually pick up readings like this on a smuggler’s cargo without a close scan. So, this could be something big... not to mention dangerous." 

Lochley still looked sceptical, realising that Zack was probably just trying to get out of having to present at the meeting with Vizhak, hell she wouldn’t mind getting out of it herself. On the other hand, the sensor readings were suspicious and did require further investigation.  "All right, Mr. Allan," she agreed finally. "However, I want a report on my desk by sixteen hundred, with a full explanation for this sensor reading," her finger tapped the screen which showed the reading in question. 

"You'll have it," Zack promised, heading for the exit, moving a little quicker than was necessary in case the Captain changed her mind. 

"What do you think, Lieutenant?" Lochley asked, as soon as the security chief had departed. "Do you think that shuttle's pilot is a smuggler... or was Mr. Allan just trying to get out of the meeting with Vizhak." 

"Probably the later," Corwin admitted with a smile, before his face turned serious again as he noticed a new sensor report. "But he is right about one thing. There is something very strange about that shuttle. I've been working flight control for years now and I've never seen anything like it. I'm getting power readings of it that are unlike anything I've ever seen before, well for a vessel of that size anyway." 

"Do you think Mr. Allan might need some assistance?" Lochley queried, peering over his shoulder at the information the computer had just compiled. "Not that I don't have every confidence in his abilities, of course." Then she frowned. "Are these right," she said, pointing to the latest sensor reading which gave the shuttle a power to mass ratio higher than anything she would have thought possible. 

"There is some distortion," Corwin admitted. "The sensors are having trouble penetrating the material in the shuttle's hull. It appears to be made of an alloy that they haven't encountered before and there is some unusual electrical activity inside the outer hull that is distorting the few readings that the sensors can make." 

"Can you clean up the distortion at all?" 

"Not unless the shuttle moves closer... a lot closer," Corwin replied. "However, Mr. Allan will be in a better position to look into it. Not a lot gets past him, especially when it concerns station security." 

"I agree, Lieutenant," Lochley nodded. Then she noticed the chronometer on the console and swore loudly. "Damn, I have to meet with the ambassador in ten minutes. Keep me informed if anything happens concerning that shuttle that I should know about." 

Under Corwin's amused gaze, she hurried across the room to collect Zack's report, and then almost ran for the exit. Grateful that he only had to deal with irate freighter captains and not ambassadors and other dignitaries, Corwin turned back to the console and sent a message to the pilot of the shuttle. "Shuttle Vozak, you are cleared to dock in landing bay six. Please keep to your assigned vector and do not deviate from the landing beacon." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Welcome to Babylon 5."

 

 

Inside a small, well-lit chamber buried in the interior of the shuttle, a white-robed figure sat cross legged on the barren deck, no sign of instrumentation or other controls in sight. The woman — for her gender was very plainly obvious to any observer — appeared deep in concentration. Her hands were steepled before her, almost as if she were praying, although the array of weapons and other equipment spread out before her were not the usual tools a priest or follower of most of the known religions — with the exception of a few of the more violent alien species. Instead she looked like a warrior preparing for battle, a holy soldier about to go to war against some evil enemy. 

Then a soft voice whispered across the small chamber, interrupting her concentration. "There is a message, Mistress," it said in gentle tones, before replaying Corwin's last communication. 

As the lieutenant's voice echoed around the barren chamber, the woman looked up, pulling back the hood of her robe to stare at the viewscreen in front of her. Impossibly pale eyes glinted with hidden energy as she scanned the information on the screen, tiny rows of alien script flowing quickly across it as the shuttle reported its findings on every little detail of the station, the other vessels waiting to dock, and even the sensors that were currently probing for information about the shuttle. 

The woman smiled briefly, the report appearing to meet with her approval. Then she silently cancelled the display, the shuttle sensing her thoughts and deactivating its sensors. "Proceed slowly my friend," she said, speaking to the vessel as if it were alive. "Keep to their beacon, but be very careful. I have not come eight hundred years and an unimagined distance to die now, not when the key to my goal is but hours away." 

The shuttle gave no verbal response, but as soon as the woman had finished speaking the lights in the chamber dimmed as energy was transferred to the engines. Picking up speed, it moved out of the shadow of the huge star liner it had been parked next to and moved closer to Babylon 5, dwarfed by the gigantic space station as it followed the landing beacon towards the docking bays. 

 

 

Under Corwin's watchful gaze, the small shuttle left its holding position, gliding forward without even the slightest trace of emissions from manoeuvring thrusters. That certainly drew some attention from the pilots and bridge crews of other nearby vessels as they realised that the shuttle, despite its size, was equipped with gravimetric engines, a technology only the Minbari, the Centauri and a couple of other races were known to possess. To encounter a shuttle of unknown make possessing such technology was certainly something to comment on, if not something to note down for further investigations, although with new races being discovered every day, it was not an overly unusually occurrence. With much of the galaxy still unexplored, there always seemed to be something new waiting around the next star system and sooner or later you were bound to run into a race you hadn't encountered before, especially at a place like Babylon 5. 

But, while the attention of most observers quickly turned back to more important matters — like trying to convince the station's flight controller that, due to some special circumstance, their vessel deserved to be shunted forward to the front of the docking queue — two sets of eyes continued to contemplate the shuttle's passage. In the spacious first-class lounge on the liner Lord Nelson, two men watched the shuttles passage from the viewing window, scrutinising the tiny shuttle closely as it moved towards the gaping maw of the docking bay. 

Although their interest in the shuttle, and its pilot, had bought them together, there was little else akin between the two men. The taller of the two was Nicolai Luchenko, the nephew of the Earth Alliance's current president. A tall, ruggedly handsome man in his late twenties, he sat back in one of the well padded chairs and watched the shuttle with an expression of bored disinterest. He wore a plain, but elegantly tailored suit, and sipped a drink one of the thoughtful stewardesses had placed on a nearby table shortly after the liner's arrival in Babylon 5 space. In short, he portrayed the appearance he'd crafted with calculation, that of a calm and collected gentleman to whom space travel was a daily occurrence and nothing to get excited about. 

But as his gaze followed the shuttle's path, he was anything but calm or collected. Inside he was almost bursting with excitement and anticipation, aware that the coming few days could spell either the end of a dream or the beginning of a new life, one free of human concerns. Placing his glass down on the round table near his chair, he stood and walked the short distance over to where his companion stood. 

Unlike Nicolai, who somehow always managed to appear composed and at ease — no matter if he was meeting with friends of his Aunt's, dining in some alien king's banquet hall, or even up to his neck in mud on some IPX dig — Alex Kurmis looked nervous and ill at ease. The short, dark-haired man — who looked about forty, although he was actually younger than Nicolai — was pressed forward against the window, an almost rabid look of hatred in his dark eyes. He wore a dark suit that had obviously seen better days, and his hands were covered by a pair of black leather gloves, very similar to those worn by telepaths when around normals — although he lacked the Psi-Corps badge that would have placed his allegiance beyond doubt. 

Nicolai stood beside him for a moment, watching the shuttle as it manoeuvred past a bulk freighter and began its approach to the main docking bay doors. "Is that her shuttle?" he asked finally, his voice holding only the slightest trace of a Russian accent. 

Alex's eyes didn't leave the shuttle. "That's it," he confirmed, his voice harsh and obviously still carrying a fair amount of anger. "I can sense her foul presence from here. We have finally found her, and I will finally get my revenge for what she did to me." 

After observing the emotions playing across the dark-haired telepath's face closely for several seconds, Nicolai cleared his throat. "I see," he began, a little nervously, always cautious about broaching this particular subject with the telepath. "Just don't forget who is financing this particular trip. Two first-class bunks on a ship like this don't come cheap, not to mention the small fortune I paid informants to watch out for her. If it wasn't for the fact that she was arriving here to meet with a Thrakallan acquaintance of mine, I wouldn't have been able to arrange this little get together at all. Just remember that I want something out of this venture as well. I haven't paid tens of thousands of credits just to help you get revenge for some minor incident." 

"Minor!" Alex screamed angrily, turning on Nicolai. "It took them three months to dig that machine out of my mind and even now I can still feel the effects of what she did to me." Then his voice dropped away and turned back to the window. "Besides, this is not just about me. I do this for all telepaths, to end the threat this woman presents." 

"Just remember..." 

"You'll have your pound of flesh, or blood, or whatever it is you want, Luchenko. But, I want to see her suffer — to personally witness her death — only then will I know the threat she poses is ended and be free of the dreams that haunt my nights." 

"I still think we would be better off contacting station security about this," Nicolai said softly. "We have enough on her to arrange an arrest warrant, and I'm sure Earthforce would back us up. There is no need to do things this way. We hold all the cards, we know who and what she is, we don't need to do it this way." 

Alex looked at him for a moment. "That's not how the Corps works. We look after our own." 

"But I thought Psi-Corps had forbidden..." 

"We look after our own, Luchenko!" Alex snarled. "Just because those fools thought it was too dangerous to pursue her, doesn't mean that they didn't want me to." The telepath's gaze returned to the view outside, his dark eyes narrowing as he saw the shuttle was finally entered the station. "We look after our own," he said again, his voice almost a whisper now. "I don't care if I have to tear this place apart looking for her, I will have my revenge!" 


	2. Chapter 2

ACT ONE

 

A cacophony of noise and colour greeted Zack as he walked into the cavernous chamber that served as both Babylon 5's general port of entry and embarkation, and contained all civilian entry and exit customs and security screening. The general hubbub of a thousand beings all trying to speak at once mixed in with the harsher sounds of the holographic advertisements and the deep background noise of heavy machinery from the docking bays. It all combined into a chaotic mix of sound that made it almost impossible to focus on one voice unless you were standing right next to the speaker. It wasn't always like this, but the recent arrival to two massive star liners, each capable of carrying thousands of passengers, meant that the number of new arrivals trying to squeeze through the overworked customs stations had increased ten fold. Add to that the normal influx of passengers from smaller transports, and the situation was barely under control. 

Zack stopped near the exit, looking across the churning sea of human and alien faces and wondered how exactly he was supposed to find the pilot of the shuttle among this crowd. Then, he realised that it was likely that the shuttle hadn't even landed yet, so all he had to do was to get one of the technicians in the landing bay to meet the pilot and guide her to a terminal of his choosing. Of course, he could go and meet the pilot personally, but Zack didn't really fancy the idea of wading through the sea of passengers and then dodging careening cargo loaders and stressed dock workers on his way through the station's extremely busy docking bays. 

A loud noise distracted his attention, somehow reaching his ear despite having to travel across the overcrowded room. Searching the room, Zack noticed an argument that had broken out at one of the terminals. Two security officers were trying to calm down an irate Centauri, a very important Centauri if the height of his hair and the elaborate designs woven into his clothing was anything to go by. Zack hadn't been informed of any visits by Centauri lords, or other high ranking officials, so whoever the Centauri was, he must be a civilian. That fact didn't make a lot of difference though, as most Centauri carried themselves as if they were the most important being in the universe. 

Noticing that the situation looked like it could easily get out of control, and one of the security officers was a Narn, he decided that his presence was required. Quickly pushing his way through the crowded room, Zack hurried towards the young security officer in charge of the terminal. She looked more than a little relieved to see the Chief heading in her direction. "What seems to be the problem here?" Zack asked, as he pushed his way past the last of the observers blocking his path. 

"Are you in charge here?" the Centauri demanded, a gleam of anger flashing in his fiery dark eyes. 

"I am head of security on this station," Zack replied calmly, hoping the Centauri would quiet down once he knew that his problem was being dealt with. 

"Good, then you are in charge of these brutal thugs. I want... No, I demand that you call them off at once. I will not be pawed by foul-smelling aliens, especially that... that animal over there." The Centauri pointed to the Narn officer who, Zack was pleased to see, didn't react, holding his station next to the scanner with a stoic expression on his face. The Centauri wasn't finished though. He turned back to Zack and did his best to look imposing and important, puffing out his chest and straightening his back. "I demand you permit me entrance at once," he said, using an almost regal tone. 

Zack turned to the human officer. "Perhaps you can tell me what the problem is, Aldred," Zack asked, reading the woman's surname off her uniform. 

"He won't submit to a search, Sir," the officer explained hurriedly. She was obviously self-conscious of the attention the argument was receiving from the other passengers collected nearby, as her face had flushed red with embarrassment. "The scan picked up a possible weapons violation, but he wouldn't submit to a search when we asked. Regulations state that all positive scans must be checked out." 

Zack turned back to the Centauri, who looked even angrier than before. "I am Guildmaster Aragon Pernimi," he announced haughtily. "I do not need to submit to having my person searched by inferior life forms. I demand to speak to the Centauri ambassador at once! I believe he is that fat fool that the Emperor has to have taken a liking to... don’t ask me why. Bring him to me, or I will file an official complaint with your superiors." 

"I'm sure we can work this out without involving the ambassador," Zack said calmly, trying to avoid a scene, especially when he knew Captain Lochley would probably hear about it. The argument had already attracted several spectators though and, among those gathered to watch, were several Centauri who stared at Pernimi as if they were fearful of him. Zack filed that little tidbit of information away for later reference and turned back to Pernimi. "If you will just allow my officers to examine your..." 

"I don't have any weapons!" the Guildmaster almost shouted. "I have been trying to tell these fools that for the past ten minutes, but they won't believe me." Then he spun around and glared fiercely at the gathered spectators. As the Centauri in the crowd vanished before his gaze could fall on them, he smiled evilly. "I have no need of weapons," he added, the smile still on his face. 

"The custom station scanner picked up a weapons violations," Zack reminded him. 

"Then your scanners are broken," Pernimi sneered. "Our superior Centauri scanners on Immolan did not pick up any phantom weapons, so yours must obviously be in error." 

"Perhaps there is something on your person that is confusing the scanners," Zack suggested diplomatically. 

"All I have is my money pouch, some jewelry and my guild insignia," Pernimi said, his anger beginning to fade a little. He reached inside his clothing and, with a flourish, pulled out from around his neck a large, dagger-shaped amulet. It was a delicate construction, heavily encrusted with jewels and gold filigree, and obviously totally worthless as a weapon... no matter how desperate its owner might be. 

Zack looked at him in exasperation, realising the silver amulet was what had been confusing the scanners. The scanners weren't sophisticated enough to determine exactly what an object was. They would have registered the shape and composition of the amulet and then flagged it as a possible weapons violation. He looked over at Aldred, who ran the weapon’s scanner over the Centauri's body again. "He's clean now, Sir," she reported. 

"I apologise for the inconvenience," Zack said, deciding not to mention that if Pernimi had just shown the amulet to the security officers in the first place, this incident would have been over before it even began. 

"You are lucky I do not report your behaviour," Pernimi said, as he passed through the terminal, looking down his long, hawk-like nose at Aldred. There was an expression of smug satisfaction on his face, as if he was pleased with himself about something. "Never in all my years has a member of the guild been treated so badly," he added, before pausing just as he was passing Zack and turning to stare at the Chief's face for a moment, a strangely intense expression on his face. Then he snorted, mumbled something about primitives, and strode off into the crowd. 

"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't expect him to get so upset," Aldred said, looking pensive, as if she expected to be reprimanded over the incident. 

Zack recalled that the young woman was one of the newer recruits, having just joined his security force a month ago. If he remembered correctly she had come straight from Earth, so she obviously didn't have the experience with alien races that some of the longer serving members of security had. "It's not your fault," Zack said, with an encouraging smile on his face. "Some of the Centauri are like that. You'll get used to them after a while." 

"I'll remember that, Sir," she said with a relieved smile. 

"Just be thankful you don't have to deal with Londo Mollari," Zack added with a grin, before his face grew serious again. "Now, seeing that I'm already here, there is something you can do for me. Do you have any information on a shuttle that was given landing permission about fifteen minutes ago? I think it was sent to Bay 6." 

Aldred looked over at the Narn officer, who scanned a readout on his console. "The shuttle has just landed," the Narn replied, in a deep, rumbling voice that was unusual even for a Narn. "The scanners report a single human life-form, who is just disembarking now." 

Zack frowned. "The sensors in C&C picked up two life-forms. Are you sure of your readings." 

"Positive, Sir. The scanner is registering only a single life-form." He hesitated for a second. "There is something peculiar about the ship’s hull though, the scanners are reporting an unusually high level of organic material in the hull. That might have confused the sensors. Would you like to check for yourself, Sir?" 

He stood aside so Zack could watch the monitor, which, along with the readouts from the sensors, was also displaying an image from one of the landing bay's cameras. Ignoring the readings for the moment, Zack watched as an average sized humanoid figure dressed in a hooded white robe emerge from beneath the shuttle, probably having just exited through some ramp or hatch that was hidden from view. 

"Can you get one of the ground techs to direct the pilot to this terminal?" Zack asked. "I want to take a closer look at her belongings. Also, order a scanning team to do a proper scan up close. If there is anything they can detect in that shuttle that has even the slightest hint of illegality about it, I want to know." 

The Narn nodded, and quickly sent the orders. A few seconds later a short man dressed in dark blue overalls appeared on the monitor, crossing quickly over to the shuttle. There he exchanged a few quick words with the robed figure, unfortunately not picked up by the camera, and then both headed towards the exit. 

Zack nodded, pleased that everything seems to be running smoothly now. "All right," he said. "Back to work. I will take care of this one when she arrives. The Captain sent me down to deal with this, so give the pilot priority clearance and move her straight to the front of the line. I don't want to have to spend all day standing around here, not with the Captain breathing down my neck over that murder investigation." 

The two security officers nodded quickly and went back to processing the long line of passengers waiting for admittance into the station. The line had grown considerably longer during the altercation with the pompous Centauri, and the two officers looked like they were going to have their work cut out for them over the next couple of hours. As they worked, Zack leaned back against a nearby wall and waited for the pilot to arrive. 

A scraping sound close behind him drew Zack attention away from the customs terminal. Turning around, he found a large, six-foot tall insect standing almost directly behind him, the alien busy observing a holographic advertisement displaying the incredible, mind-boggling wonders of the jungle world of Vega III. Zack recognised the being as a Thrakallan, a species whose entire existence appeared, to outsiders at least, to be devoted solely to criminal activities. Of course, on their world it was just a way of life, but when they moved out among the other races, fortunately a very rare occurrence, then trouble always seemed to follow them wherever they went. Zack could still remember the former security chief, Michael Garibaldi, spending hours complaining about the activities of a Thrakallan known as n'Grath. He had been the bane of Garibaldi's existence for several years before his strange disappearance around two years ago, an event that was still remarked on among the leading lights of Babylon 5's underworld community. 

The trouble with the Thrakallans was that they were so incredibly good at what they did. Despite hardly ever leaving their home world, the gas giant Beta Lyrae II, they had managed to build up the reputation of their crime syndicates until they were now second only to the infamous multi-species organisation known as the Guild of Thieves. Unlike the more common criminals, the Thrakallans didn't stoop to the level of pickpockets and common muggers. They were lords of crime, ruling over their syndicates from gigantic floating cities — rumoured to be have been created in the distant past by the same race responsible for building jumpgates across the galaxy — that drifted gently through the atmosphere of their home world. They sent others to do their dirty work, usually the frog-like Bilubi, a low tech species from one of Beta Lyrae's moons. 

Zack hadn't had much to do with the Thrakallans himself, but had been keeping a close eye on this particular specimen since he first came on board about a month ago. The name it had given on entry to the station was j’Nialth, and so far all the Thrakallan had done was set up shop as a jeweller in the Zocalo, running a small stall dealing in antique jewellery and gemstones from a hundred worlds. The shop had gained some popularity with the richer residents of the station, those able to afford the lofty price tags of j'Nialth's wares, but Zack suspected that it was only a cover for less legitimate activity. He had no proof of this, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that the Thrakallan was up to something illegal. 

Spotting Zack watching him, j'Nialth turned to inspect his observer. He chittered something in his native tongue, which his advanced translator spat out as, "Greetings, Security Chief Zack Allan." 

"Hello j'Nialth, are you waiting for someone?" Zack said, noticing that the translator used a voice that sounded like an announcer at a sporting event, instead of the more normal, calm, even tones. Someone had obviously messed up the settings. He also noticed that the translator also doubled as a breather mask, making it possible for the Thrakallan to walk around outside his normal methane atmosphere. 

"You are waiting also?" j'Nialth inquired, declining to answer Zack's query. He glanced across at the long queue of beings waiting to pass through customs, his multifaceted eyes flickered in the light from the garish advertisements lighting up in a rainbow of colours. 

"I am," Zack confirmed. "But I asked if you were." 

"I am watching," j'Nialth replied, pointing one claw towards the hologram of the Vega colony. "I am considering a holiday. Business has been good and this system looks warm and peaceful." 

Zack looked at the hologram for a second. "That's Vega III," he said. "The gravity there is three times what it is on Earth. Then there's wildlife. I have heard that there are some creatures on that world that will tear the heads off anyone who comes near them. I don't know what they do with your head after they've removed it from your body, but it's not a nice place to visit, despite what the ad says." 

"I will look further," j'Nialth said, taking a moment to glance out across the crowded room, his head swivelling from side to side as he scanned the rows of passengers. 

Zack could see he was probably waiting for someone, but his curiosity about who, or what, the Thrakallan was waiting for had to be put on hold when Aldred called out to him. Walking over to see what the customs officers wanted, he found himself staring at the figure he had seen walking off the shuttle. Somewhere along her journey through the landing bay she had pulled back the hood of her robe, and Zack found himself captivated by the woman's beautiful, if somewhat pale features. 

She wasn't a tall woman, perhaps just as tall as the Captain, but lacking Lochley's more shapely figure. But, in a strange, exotic way, she was far more attractive than most women could ever hope to be. Her pale shoulder-length hair resembled finely woven strands of gleaming sunlight instead of mere human hair. Although it lacked any real colour, there was a hint of gold about it, just enough to make it shine brilliantly in the glare from the ceiling lights. Her skin was also pale, but it wasn't a sickly pale, but rather the smooth creaminess of perfection, lacking any flaws or blemishes. But, it was her eyes that Zack noticed most of all. They were pale like the rest of her features, the iris' almost colourless, with just a hint of blue. There was something else in them though, a hidden power, something both ancient and young. Zack sensed a presence about her, something intangible that seemed to cling to her, an almost ageless quality that was impossible to define properly. Whatever it was, Zack found it incredibly attractive, and found himself unable to take his eyes off the woman as she walked past the line of passengers and up to the terminal. 

It appeared that she had noticed him also, because as Zack stared at her, the woman returned his gaze with a look of curiosity and just a faint hint of amusement. Finally, after standing there for nearly a minute waiting for Zack to say something, she decided to speak up instead. "You are waiting for something?" she asked, looking expectantly at Zack. Like her features, her voice was soft, almost musical. There was also more than a hint of an accent, although Zack couldn't quite identify where exactly she had picked it up. 

Caught out, Zack blinked, and then quickly straightened his uniform and did his best to look like he hadn't been staring. "Sorry," he said. "You are not what I expected." 

"I rarely am," she said, a half smile lighting up her face. Then she regarded Zack with a curious expression. "I did not know that I was expected though," she said softly. "My visit here was not planned." 

"I though you were... I mean, the captain thought..." Zack paused. "Actually, I'd like to ask you a few questions. I'm Zack Allan, chief of station security, and there were a couple of details about your vessel that raised some questions. The fact that it doesn't have any I.D. transmitters or markings for example." 

The woman raised an eyebrow when Zack mention his name and rank and her interest suddenly seemed more intense. "I see," she said, as soon as Zack had finished speaking. "I should have expected that, I guess. I had to abandon my usual starship at a planet a few systems back and I have been forced to use this shuttle instead." 

"Sorry to hear that," Zack said, taking her comment to mean that her vessel had crashed or been damaged in some way. He wondered where she had managed to find the shuttle then. Its hull was vaguely Vorlon in appearance, and he wondered if she was one of the explorers who had been trying to enter the now abandoned systems of the Vorlon empire. Earth had placed a ban on all civilian sponsored voyages last year after a near fatal expedition by an IPX survey ship and Zack knew he would have to report any breach of the ban to Lochley. But at the moment he had no proof this woman had been anywhere near the Vorlon empire, and any questions he asked would only make woman suspicious, which was the last thing he wanted to do if she did turn out to be a smuggler. 

She smiled and then glanced briefly in the direction of the docking bay. "It is of rather a unique design," she admitted. "And it has something of a mind of its own when it comes to flying, but it was all that was available at the time." 

"Do you need assistance in recovering your ship?" he asked. "There are agents for most of the major salvage companies on Babylon 5." 

"I think it will be best to leave it where it is for now," the woman replied quickly. "Now that I am here, I hope to sell the shuttle and book passage back home on a commercial transport." Before Zack could press her any further on the matter, she reached inside her robe and pulled out a slim plastic card. "I believe you will need to look at this before I am permitted entrance to this station." 

Zack nodded, taking her identicard and running it through the scanner. As her data scrolled up the screen, Zack took careful note of the details, a habit he had picked up after so many years in security. Her name was given as Jeanne Darias, with no middle name listed. It was not one he had heard before, which was always a good sign. Usually, if he had heard of someone before, then it was because their file had crossed his desk at once point and they were wanted for some heinous crime. The identicard listed her place of birth as the Sheffer IV colony, which was one of the least interesting of Earth’s twenty of so major colonies. Most surprisingly, it gave her age as twenty years old, a lot less than he had guessed at first glance. Not that she looked older, but there was a quality about her that made her appear ageless, making it difficult to determine her exact age. 

"Everything seems to be in order, Miss Darias" he said, handing back the identicard. "If you will just step through this scanner so we can make sure you don't have any illegal substances or items on you," he continued, pointing to the weapons scanner behind him. "Standard procedure," he added quickly, when the woman hesitated. 

Jeanne looked suspiciously at the scanner, but stepped forward into the device and stood still as the machine quickly examined her body for any hidden weapons or other contraband. "She's clean, Sir," Aldred said. "No weapons or any illegal substances." Then the security officer frowned and looked up at Jeanne. "You aren't carrying any electrical devices are you?" 

"Nothing but this bag, and it holds clothing and a few other personal items, but little more," Jeanne replied, tugging a small cloth bag off her shoulder. It was almost identical in colour to her robe, which was probably why no-one had noticed it until now. She held it out for the security officer to scan. 

Aldred quickly ran the more powerful hand scanner over the bag, but it picked up nothing out of the ordinary. "Weird," she said. "Perhaps there is something wrong with these scanners after all. They picked up an odd energy reading for a minute there. It's gone now though." 

"Have one of the techs check it out," Zack said, deciding to interrupt the customs officer before Jeanne became too suspicious. If the scanners hadn't picked up anything, and this woman was a smuggler instead of an innocent traveller, then any goods she had been hoping to bring on the station were probably still on her ship, which the scanner team he was sending should find. Besides, there had already been one disruption in customs this morning, any more and the captain was sure to hear about it and the last thing he needed was more complaints. He stepped around the scanner so not to set off the alarm and walked over the Jeanne's side. "Welcome to Babylon 5, Miss Darias, is there anything else I can assist you with while you are here?" 

Jeanne nodded. "I am in need of lodgings during my stay. It will take some time to arrange everything for my return home and I will need a place to stay while I am here." 

"Of course," Zack said. "There are information terminals near the exit, you can use them to contact the local rental agents. I can show you how if you like." 

"I would like that very much, Mr. Allan," she said softly, glancing briefly at something over his shoulder as she spoke. 

Zack smiled. "This way then," he said, pointing towards the exit. He turned and was about to lead Jeanne away from the terminal when something caught his foot and he found himself tumbling to the floor. Caught by surprise, Zack only stopped himself from falling by grabbing hold of the edge of the security terminal. Angry, he spun around to confront whoever had tripped him, only to find himself looking at the insectoid face of j'Nialth. 

"Apologies, Security Chief Zack Allan," the Thrakallan merchant said, extending a claw to help Zack steady himself. "I was watching screen," he said, waving another claw in the direction of an advertisement for a resort on Mars. "I was not aware you were walking into me." 

"I don't believe that for a second," Zack growled, brushing aside j'Nialth's offer of assistance. 

Hidden for the moment behind j'Nialth's large body, Jeanne quickly scanned the note the merchant had shoved into her hands, then folded it and slipped it into a pocket in her robe. Stepping around the merchant she walked over to Zack. "I was about to warn you that he was standing there," she told him, "but I was not quick enough. It was just an accident, I'm sure this creature didn't mean any harm." 

"You see, Chief Allan," j'Nialth said, spreading his claws wide and bobbing his head in agreement with Jeanne. "It was accident. There will be no problem, yes?" 

Zack frowned, eyeing the merchant suspiciously. He could have been sure that j'Nialth had been a good ten metres away last time he had seen him. Still he hadn't been hurt, so there wasn't anything to make a scene over, although he would have loved to find some reason to arrest the Thrakallan. "It was just an accident," he admitted grudgingly. "But try and stay out of way of the customs terminals in future, j'Nialth." He pointed to a spot near the far wall. "Go and wait over there instead." 

J'Nialth swivelled his head to observe the seats along the far wall and then swivelled it back again to look at Zack. "I will comply," he agreed. "My apologies again." He then shuffled off and was quickly swallowed up by the milling crowd of passengers. 

"Sorry about that," Zack said as he turned back to Jeanne. "Things seem to be a little crowded here today." 

"That was a Thrakallan, wasn't it?" she asked, with the sort of wide-eyed innocence that Zack expected from someone new to space, although he seriously doubted that was true in Jeanne's case. 

"Yes, that's j'Nialth, One of our friendly local gem merchants," Zack replied. "I wouldn't buy anything from him though," he added. "Anything you purchase from a Thrakallan is sure to be overpriced and probably a fake." 

"I do not think my credit balance runs quite that far," Jeanne admitted. "Just enough for a room for a few days and a couple of meals. Perhaps you can recommend somewhere cheap, but clean? I have never really got the hang of using these new computer systems, they seem so complex." 

Zack looked at her curiously, wondering why someone who was obviously an accomplished pilot, able to make a landing on a space station like Babylon 5 without the aid of a docking computer, would have trouble with a basic computer. Still, at least this way he would know where she was if he needed to question her further. "I think I know a place," he told her. "I can even guide you there if you like. It's not far out of my way." 

"Thank you, Mr. Allan," she replied with another dazzling smile. "That will be most useful indeed." 

Zack smiled as well, although he wasn't sure exactly why. "This way then," he said, pointing toward the exit. "It's not far." 

As they walked away, there was a suddenly flurry of movement in the crowd to the right of security terminal. Bringing his body to its full height, instead of the usual slumped posture his people tended to adopt around aliens, j'Nialth rose up on his hind legs until he could see out over the crowd, his head just peeking over the top of a large Narn merchant who was completely unaware that he was being used as a shield by the Thrakallan. He turned slowly to follow the passage of Zack and Jeanne as they walked to the entrance, an almost hungry glint in his glittering multi-faceted eyes. 

Then his gaze fell on a human passenger sitting quietly near the entrance reading a copy of The Universe Today. As if he was feeling the Thrakallan looking at him, the man lowered the newspaper and stared over at j'Niath. In response the Thrakallan nodded once and then jerked his head in Zack's direction. The man glanced over at the woman with Zack and then nodded in response, discarding his newspaper and slipping through the crowd in pursuit. 

 

 

Nearly two hours later, Nicolai Luchenko and Alex Kurmis finally made it onto the station and found their way through the docking bays to the custom's terminals. Neither had much in the way of baggage, Alex not carrying anything at all, and Nicolai carrying only a single bag over one shoulder and a large wooden case under one arm. They now stood in the line of passengers from the Lord Nelson, waiting their turn to go through customs. 

"Are you sure we can trust this Thrakallan?" Alex whispered, as they waited for the line to start moving again. As he spoke, he glanced around nervously as if expecting someone to be trying to listen in on their conversation. "What to stop him selling us out, just like he is selling out Jeanne?" 

"I've known j'Nialth for years," Nicolai replied, not bothering to whisper. "He is the most trustworthy Thrakallan I know." 

"That's not saying much. Everyone knows the reputation the Thrakallan's have. I do not want to fail now, not when she is so close." 

Nicolai smiled and patted a pocket, which bulged slightly. "You just have to understand the way they think. The Thrakallans like money and the more of it the better. Offer them enough money and they will betray their own mothers... although I'm not sure that Thrakallans actually have mothers." 

"I'm still not..." Alex began, before being interrupted by the security officer running the customs terminal. 

"Are you two going to stand there all day?" the officer asked, looking at them with a bored expression on his face. "If so, then please move to one side so I can process the other passengers." 

Alex scowled at him and then marched up to the terminal and slapped his identicard into the man's hand. The security officer didn't seem to notice the telepath's anger, quickly checking the card and then waving Alex through. Nicolai moved forward, placing his case down onto the desk and handing over his identicard. As the officer scanner the card, Nicolai pressed his thumb against the genetically coded lock on the case and then opened it up. "I think you might need to check this as well," he grinned. 

"Do you have a permit for that?" the security officer asked him calmly, pointing to the weapon in the case. 

"Of course," Nicolai said, handing over the card. "I am hoping to sell it to a Centauri merchant on the station, a collector of some renown on his homeworld." 

"Whatever," the officer replied disinterestedly. "the permit checks out so you can bring it onto the station, but make sure that it isn't loaded, or we will have to confiscate it." He handed the pass back. "You can proceed." 

Slipping his permit back into his suit pocket, Nicolai nodded once in the direction of the security officer, closed up the case and hurried over to where Alex was waiting. "Do you really need that," the dark-haired telepath asked as Nicolai reached his side. "I don't see what's wrong with a normal pistol. That thing must be at least two hundred years old." 

"More like three hundred, actually," Nicolai replied, patting the top of the case. "But it's never let me down yet. There are some things that get better with age and this little beauty is one of them." He tucked the gun case back under his arm and pointed in the direction of the exit. "Come on, we had better get moving. J'Nialth is going to be waiting for us in his store." 

 

 

Aragon Pernimi looked around the room, most displeased with what he found. He turned on the human woman who had guided him here. "Is this the best you can do?" he asked haughtily. "I am used to the finest the Centauri Republic can offer and you provide me with this... this hovel. I demand that you find me better lodgings than this at once." 

"I'm afraid this is the best room we currently have available, Sir," the woman explained, her voice calm and measured, well used to the demands of the Centauri and the other races who frequented the station. "If you are not happy then you are of course welcome to try somewhere else, but we cannot provide what we do not have." 

Aragon sniffed dismissively, examining one of the paintings that hung from the walls. It was painted by some obscure Earth artist and depicted a windswept field of wheat with a dilapidated barn in the background. "How depressingly rural," he mused, before turning back to the woman and sighing. "It will do, I suppose," he said. "Now, what exorbitant amount do you require for me to rent this festering dump for a week?" 

"One thousand credits in advance," the woman replied. "We also accept Centauri ducats, and most common forms of alien currency." 

"Bah. It is nothing more than robbery. A thousand credits to stay in this tin can. Why I could have hired an entire house for that back on Immolan." 

"We do have several less expensive rooms that you can rent," the rental agent said, displaying an incredible amount of patience. "They are not quite as large..." 

"I will take it," Aragon said quickly, reaching into a pouch hanging from his belt and removing several heavy gold coins. "This should cover the fee for the next two weeks." 

The woman nodded, and accepted the coins. "Is there anything else you will need, Sir? Perhaps you would like to keep your money in our vault. The station does have a large number of pickpockets and I would hate for something bad to happen to you." 

Aragon smiled, his toothy grin reminding the rental agent of a shark. "I do not fear pickpockets," he said in an amused tone. "If they steal from me, then they will soon regret their mistake." Then his mood suddenly changed, growing darker. "Now take your fee and depart from my presence," he said coldly. "Do not bother me again." 

The rental agent sighed to herself, and after a short bow in the direction of the annoying Centauri she departed. As soon as she was gone, Aragon turned back to his examination of the room. Dropping his sole remaining piece of luggage onto one of the lounge chairs, he moved into the centre of the room. Holding one hand out in front of him, his palm facing the nearest wall, he slowly spun around in a circle, while at the same time reaching out with his mind to scan the walls for listening devices. Finding nothing, he moved into the other three rooms and repeated the scan before finally satisfying himself that no-one was attempting to listen in on any conversations he might conduct. 

He was actually very surprised that he hadn't found anything. He would have thought that despicable insect he was now working for would have bugged the entire station. In fact, he was surprised that the humans hadn't done something similar when they built this place, but he had always heard they were strange that way. On the other hand, after what had happened to him over the last two weeks, nothing would really surprise him anymore. 

Two weeks ago he had actually been someone, the feared and respected leader of the Immolan V telepath's guild. He had been employed by the cream of Centauri nobility, had eaten the finest foods and lived in a vast palace suitable for one of his rank. Now he was a renegade, on the run from his own government, all because he had been hired by a minor noble to scan the Emperor. This sort of treatment for a member of the guild was unheard of. The guild was always neutral in conflicts between nobles and even the Royal Household upheld that neutrality. The guild could be hired by either side, but owed loyalty to none. By tradition, the one who hired the guild was held responsible for any spying, not the telepath. Which made this warrant for his arrest even more intolerable. Never in the guild's long history had a member, let alone a master such as himself, been treated in this manner. 

Of course, he had complained, for all the good it did. He had expected support from the Grand Master on Centauri Prime, but the dithering old fool had just abandoned him, left him to meet his fate alone. So he had been forced to flee, and eventually he had even been forced into to dealing with less than reputable aliens to ensure his survival. No doubt the emperor's assassins were already on his trail, and he had very little time left to live. This Thrakallan had promised safety though, for a price. Aragon hated dealing with the foul creature, but when someone is being pursued by the Centauri Assassin's Guild it doesn't pay to be too picky about who he had to deal with. 

Sighing, Aragon slumped down in one of the lounge chairs, before reaching over and pulling a half-empty bottle from his bag. He examined the purple liquid sloshing around inside with some scepticism, before pouring himself a glass and sitting back to wait for the Thrakallan's agents to arrive. He had seen the insect waiting near the customs terminal, and after the performance he had given, there was no doubt that j'Nialth knew he was here. All he had to do was wait to learn what service he would be expected to perform in return for passage to some distant world. Whatever it was going to be, he knew he wasn't going to enjoy it. 

 

 

Three levels deeper into the station, Zack Allan also found himself in the residential section of the station, although his companion was considerably more pleasant than the Centauri telepath. He had spent the past two and a half hours showing Jeanne Darias around the station, a task that Zack had found very satisfying in an odd kind of way. Now that he thought back on it, he couldn't remember exactly when his offer to show her to a rental agent had turned into a grand tour. Normally, being asked to act as tour guide was enough to send him running for the hills, but for some reason though, he found the young woman irresistible, and guiding her around the station seemed more like an honour than a task. In fact, he was almost sorry that the tour was reaching its conclusion. He realised that there was still a chance that she was a smuggler, but after spending the better part of three hours in Jeanne's company, he found it difficult to imagine her engaging in any wrong doing. 

A short distance down the corridor, Zack saw the door he had been searching for. Turning to Jeanne, he pointed out the nondescript door. "That's the one there," he said. "I hope it is suitable."  
  
"I'm sure it will be fine," Jeanne replied, walking swiftly over to the door and slipping the card the rental agent had given her into the lock. "Although, it was a little more expensive than I had originally hoped."  
  
"There is a shortage of living space on the station at the moment," Zack said apologetically. "I'm afraid this is the cheapest available, unless you wanted something in brown sector, but I wouldn't recommend that idea."  
  
Jeanne nodded and then smiled wanly at him. "Thank you for the tour, Mr. Allan," she said softly, as she turned and walked through the door into the room beyond. "It has been most useful."  
  
"I'm glad I could be of some assistance," Zack said, stepping through the door after her. "If there is anything else I can do, I would be happy to help." 

Jeanne placed her bag down on a bench and without turning around replied, "in fact, there is something that you could help me with." She turned around and glanced over at the door. "Close," she told the computer. It quickly registered her voice and the door slid shut behind Zack. Then, as Zack looked at her with a curious expression on his face, Jeanne began to untie her robe. 

"I'm not sure..." Zack began to say, before stopping when he saw what Jeanne was wearing beneath her robe. Instead of the naked flesh he had been expecting, he was now confronted with a dark outfit, that looked more like some sort of combat uniform than any familiar form of casual clothing. His gaze wandered down her body, observing the knee high boots made of some sort of animal hide, and then finally falling on the small dark-coloured pistol hanging from her belt... just as Jeanne's right hand closed over the weapon. 

"I'm sorry about this," Jeanne said softly, drawing the pistol and raising it towards Zack. "I do not have the time to help you understand just how many races are at risk if I fail — nor the confidence that you have a large enough soul to believe me if I told you who I really am. It's better that you sleep until I have taken what I came for and I'm gone." The security chief quickly lunged for his own gun, but before his hand had even closed around the weapon, there was a soft popping sound and a sudden explosion of pain in his chest. 

Somehow managing to pull his own weapon from its holster, Zack struggled against the numbness spreading through his body, but was unable to fight it, the PPG pistol slipping from his hand and landing with a clatter on the floor. He looked over at Jeanne and gasped out, "why?" before collapsing into the deep abyss of unconsciousness. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

ACT TWO

 

To the uninitiated — the young adventurer on his first voyage from home, or the rich noble unused to the ways of devious alien merchants — j'Nialth's tiny shop was an exotic wonderland. Gemstones and rare crystals from a hundred worlds sat on padded shelves, along with necklaces, bracelets, and even the odd crown or two. Behind the coating of sparkle and glitter though, the shop was little more than a front for the Thrakallan's less legitimate business dealings. Certainly, the jewellery store pulled in a tidy profit, but it was in the hiring and selling of certain essential services that j'Nialth was beginning to make his name. 

When he had first arrived on the station, he had been somewhat nervous, even worried, about the prospect of setting up his operations among so many different alien species. As young, low-ranked male, he had little experience with aliens, or with running the sort of operation he needed to finance his future ambitions back home. However, he was still a Thrakallan and his people's genes ran thick with the skills he needed to thrive in this new and strangely tempting environment. Using the funds bequeathed to him by a dying relative — or rather stolen from a dying relative, since it was not the Thrakallan way to allow their elders to die without first squeezing them for every last credit. — he had set up this small shop, and now, barely more than a month later, he was preparing to take over a good portion of the station's underworld. Even by Thrakallan standards, his fortunes had undergone a dramatic rise since his arrival on Babylon 5. 

Of course, his takeover bid required a considerable influx of new funds, and while the shop did bring in a portion of the necessary credits, he had been forced to deal with some less than sane alien creatures in recent days. Still, if today's dealings worked out as he planned, then he would have the credits he needed, along with a suitable reserve. Putting aside the collection of Minbari crystals he had been examining, he glanced up at an antique Earth clock that dominated one wall. Thrakallans as a species were not overly prone to displays of nervousness, but j'Nialth could not help put feel a small amount of anxiety as he awaited for his guests to arrive. Just as he stood to gain substantially from this venture, he could also lose everything if events did not proceed as he had planned. Already he had invested a considerable amount of his ready cash into procuring certain items and services that would be needed and if the clients failed to arrive on time... 

The clock struck ten, its melodious chimes announcing the arrival of two humans in the store. Had he been human — or at least, if he had possessed a human-like respiratory system — j'Nialth would have sighed in relief. Instead, he just inclined his head in the direction of the taller of the two humans and gestured for them to approach. 

"J'Nialth, you old rascal," Nicolai Luchenko said, a smile on his face. "How are things in the jewellery business?" 

"Very... profitable," the Thrakallan replied, cautiously examining the thin man who accompanied Nicolai. As a precaution, he slid the tray of crystals he had been examining off the desk and placed them on the shelf behind him. He did not get to where he was now by trusting others, especially a rogue like Nicolai Luchenko. "Who is your companion?" he asked suspiciously. 

Before Nicolai could reply, Alex pushed his way forward. "Where is she?" he demanded. 

Nicolai quickly pushed Alex aside, an apologetic expression on his face. "He's no-one important," he told j'Nialth. "Just insurance in case something goes wrong." 

J'Nialth nodded slowly. "Insurance is good," he agreed. "But it is also good if your insurance remains under control." 

"I think we can be assured of that," Nicolai replied, staring at Alex, while at the same time trying to mentally pass on a message to the telepath to control his temper. Not being telepathic himself, the tall Russian couldn't be sure if Alex got the message, but as the dark-haired telepath didn't make any further outbursts, he assumed he had managed to get through to him. 

"Good," j'Nialth said. He waved a claw towards a beaded curtain that separated the store front from the back room where most of his business was conducted. "Come, we have much to discuss." 

"After you," Nicolai said. "Age before beauty." J'Nialth regarded him curiously, as if trying to work out what he meant by that comment, but didn't argue, instead just nodding in agreement and shuffling through the curtain. Nicolai moved to follow, but found a restraining arm holding him back. 

"I don't like this, Luchenko," Alex whispered fiercely. "How do we know we can trust this creature. He could be setting us up." 

Nicolai shrugged. "Possibly, but j'Nialth is a friend and Thrakallan's don't sell out their friends... unless, of course, they get a really good offer!" 

"We don't need the risk. We can find her on our own, we don't need any assistance." 

"You mightn't," Nicolai replied. "But I like to make sure I have backup before going into a fight. Besides, this is j'Nialth's turf. He knows every nook and cranny on this station and we are going to need his help. Remember that if it wasn't for j'Nialth, we wouldn't even have this chance." 

"I don't like the way he is so eager to sell out Jeanne. If what you told me earlier is correct then she hired j'Nialth, and now he has turned around and is helping us. How do you know that that he won't do the same to us." 

Nicolai smiled. "As I said, he's a friend, and despite everything else I think he is someone I can trust. For the moment he needs me as much as I need him, so we have what the Thrakallans refer to as a symbiotic business contract. As long as we still need each other, or at least as long as my money holds out, we'll be safe enough." 

"I still don't like it," Alex muttered. 

"Then you need to get out more. This is the way the universe works and it isn't going to change just because you want it to." Nicolai took a step towards the curtain and then stopped and looked back at the telepath. "Now are you coming, or do you want to stand around out here until my business with j'Nialth is finished?" Without even waiting for an reply, Nicolai turned and strode confidently through the curtain and into j'Nialth's lair. With only the slightest expression of apprehension on his face, Alex followed, brushing aside the glittering curtain, and stepping into the darkened room that lay beyond. 

 

 

Sergeant Alan Wilson yawned as he strode into the docking bay. Behind him, two technicians struggled to manoeuvre a large trolley loaded down with scanning equipment past a stack of packing crates. Pausing next to a zero-g lifter that a dock worker had carelessly parked near the exit, he look out his data pad and scanned a list of entries. "All right," he said finally, after reaching the last of the entries. "It looks like we have one to go before knock off time. The Chief wants us to take a look at a shuttle that arrived this morning." 

"Which one, Sarge?" the older of his two technicians, Charles Kimanthi, asked, sweeping a hand around to indicate the huge bay... as well as the sizeable collection of shuttles and transports of all shapes and sizes. The tall African leaned comfortably against the scanner trolley, while the other technician, Aaron Becket, sat down on a nearby packing crate to catch his breath. "It looks like we have a fair collection to choose from." 

Wilson frowned briefly at Kimanthi, who just smiled, before turning back to his data pad and checking the entry again. "Landing pad 7c," he replied, pointing across the bay to a small black shuttle that was partially hidden behind a larger Minbari vessel. "Come on, lets get this done quickly and we can go and have a drink at Alfredo's after work." 

There was a groan from Becket, as he stood and began the laborious task of pushing the heavy trolley of equipment across the docking bay. Fortunately for the younger technician, the shuttle was only a short distance along the docking bay, instead of at the far end of the long chamber. But, after a long day pushing a heavy trolley of equipment around the station, even a short journey seemed torturous. 

Coming to a halt near the shuttle, the two technicians set to work, Becket unrolling a length of cable and attaching it to a circular sensor array, while Kimanthi started unclipping panels and setting up the equipment needed to conduct the scan and record their findings. Leaning up against the nearby Minbari vessel, Wilson looked over the entry on his data pad again. "Damn, looks like the Chief wants the whole deal. Mineral, biochemical, the lot. Looks like that trip to Alfredo's might have to wait." 

"Sarge!" Becket suddenly called out. "I think you had better come and look at this." 

Wilson sighed and place the data pad down on the top of the scanner. "What is it now?" he asked as he walked over to where the young technician's was standing. Becket didn't reply, instead he just pointed towards the shuttle. Wilson glanced over at the tiny vessel with an annoyed frown on his face, before he also spotted what the technician had discovered. "Hell, now that's something you don't see every day. Kimanthi, take a look at this." 

The older technician frowned as he walked over to see what his two work-mates were doing. Then his eyes opened wide and he crouched down to look beneath the shuttle. "It's got no landing struts," he exclaimed. "It must use some sort of artificial gravity to levitate above the deck, but I've never seen anything like it before." 

"Neither have I," Wilson replied, running his hand beneath the shuttle, as if he believe that there was really some sort of trick at work and the struts were really just hidden somewhere. As he passed arm beneath the shuttle, every hair on the back of his hand stood on end and a weird tingling ran down his arm. He quickly snatched it back, clutching his hand against his chest as if it had been wounded. "Let's get this done and get out of here," he told the other two. "This thing is beginning to give me the creeps." 

Becket nodded and walked cautiously over to the shuttle. In his hand he still held the sensor array for the scanner, which he now began to attach to the vessel's outer hull. As soon as the circular device was clamped in place, he took a quick step backwards and hurried over to the trolley to turn on the scanner. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered, as he flicked the main power switch. 

Nothing happened. Then there was a faint hum from the scanner as it powered up, causing several screens mounted on the back of the trolley to flicker into life. "Now this is interesting," Kimanthi mused, tapping a command on the main keyboard. "There doesn't seem to be any feed coming through from the sensors. Are you sure you attached them correctly?" 

"Of course," Becket replied angrily. "I'm not stupid." 

"Well, you had better check again. I'm not getting any readings here." 

"All right," Becket snapped. "I'll check the bloody sensor array." Muttering to himself, he strode back over to where he had attached the bundle of sensors to the shuttle's hull and began to examine the array. "It probably needs replacing," he called out to Kimanthi, when he discovered that two of the array's power lights had failed to come on. "This equipment was substandard when it was new, and given the amount of work it has had recently, I wouldn't be surprised if it has given up the ghost." 

"Give it a whack with something," Sergeant Wilson suggested. "That usually does the trick." 

Becket nodded and pulled his heavy flashlight from his belt. Pulling his arm back, he hit the sensor array with as solid a blow as he dared, hoping the delicate instruments inside the array casing wouldn't shatter. But instead of the shattering sound he was expecting, there was a solid thunk of metal striking metal and then a tiny blinking light came on, soon followed by a second, indicating that the array was operating again. 

The technician didn't have time to celebrate his small victory though. As soon as the second light came on, the dark surface of the shuttle's hull suddenly erupted with light. There was a blinding flash and then a pulse of white lightning arced down the sensor cable to smash into the scanner trolley. Becket was caught in the middle of the explosion of energy and suddenly found himself flying across the docking bay, eventually landing heavily, nearly ten metres away. 

Realising the danger they were in, the other two members of the scanning team threw themselves across the deck, just as every instrument and display on the trolley overloaded at once, sending sparks and shards of super-heated metal in all directions. That series of smaller explosions was followed soon after by a huge explosion of flame and energy as the heavy storage cell that provided power to the instruments blew, sending a plume of smoke and fire high into the air. 

Amazingly, none of the scanner team was killed in the explosion, although they were all momentarily stunned. Wilson was the first to recover, opening his eyes to find himself being covered by a thick white foam that the docking bay's emergency extinguishers were spraying over the trolley and everything nearby. A siren began wailing, and in the distance he could see several figures rushing in their direction. Quickly getting back to his feet, he hurried to pull his recovering companions from the foam. Becket was the worst injured, limping due to a twisted ankle, and cradling his blackened right hand, which had been holding the cable when the lightning had arched down it. "What the hell was that!" he asked as soon as they were clear of the extinguishers. 

"Looked like some sort of automatic defence system," Wilson replied, cringing as another small explosion tore through ruined equipment. "It must have activated when it detected our scanner probing its hull." 

"I think we are going to need something with a little more firepower if the chief wants to take a look inside that thing, Sarge," Kimanthi said, trying to wipe the foam off his overalls. 

"Like a battle tank," Wilson muttered as he wiped the foam off his link and tapped the button to connect him to security central. As soon as the voice of the communications officer greeted him, Wilson said calmly, "put me through to the Chief. It looks like we have a bit of a situation down here in docking bay six." 

"I think that's an understatement," Kimanthi said, looking over at the shuttle. Where the sensor array had been attached, there was now a faint patch of white on the hull, as if the explosion of energy had scorched the metal. That proved not to be true though, as moments later the white patch faded and the hull returned to the smooth black surface that had greeted them earlier. Kimanthi looked up at Wilson. "Better make that two tanks," he suggested. 

 

 

Oblivious to what was going on in the docking bay, Jeanne Darias stood before tall mirror in the bathroom of her rented quarters. She stared intently at her reflection, watching her eyes as if attempting to catch a glimpse of something hidden behind the pale orbs. Then she shook her head, as if trying to dismiss a painful memory, and turned her attention to the array of weapons laid out on the shelf next to the mirror. 

Picking up the first, a thin throwing dagger, she slid it into a hidden pouch in the sleave of the long leather coat that had replaced the robe she wore earlier. A twin of the first dagger was next, followed by several more daggers and knives that she secreted about her person. Once all the knives were safe in their sheaths, she reached for one of the two remaining objects, a large package wrapped in soft fabric. Careful not to drop the package, she transferred it from the shelf to an interior pocket. Finally, all that was left was the pistol she had used on Zack. She picked it up, feeling the slight drain on her life force as it began to draw energy from her body to power itself. She quickly slid it back into its holster before it could fully charge and then turned to look at herself in the mirror again. 

Satisfied with what she saw, Jeanne straightened her coat and headed back into the main room, paused to look down at the fallen form of Zack Allan, who still lay stretched out on the floor where she had left him. She knelt at his side and quickly checked his pulse and other vital signs to ensure that he still lived. She had not enjoyed shooting the security chief, but as she had told him before firing, she could not allow him to stand in her way, not when so much was at stake. 

A tingle at the back of her mind suddenly tore her attention away from Zack's condition. Recognising the mental signature of her shuttle, Jeanne opened her mind and allowed its thoughts to touch hers.  <Alert,> the shuttle's voice stated calmly, the words echoing inside her head, carried to her via the neural transmitter she wore — a highly advanced piece of technology that was hidden inside the delicate jewelled circuit she wore around her head.  <Mistress, Intruders have attempted to breech hull security seal. Have successfully repelled with zero casualties. Please respond with further instructions.>

Following the message there was a series of still images that seared into her mind — the scanner team approaching, their examination of the shuttle. The attaching of the sensor and finally, the destruction of the scanner. Frowning in annoyance, Jeanne realised that she should have foreseen such an encounter. It was within the shuttle's power to project false readings into primitive equipment of the sort the scanning team was using, but she hadn't ordered it to do so. 

For a moment she felt anger towards the shuttle, but quickly pushed that back, realising that the vessel was not to blame. It had limited experience with curious humans and responded in the way it had been taught. No, the fault was hers, and the consequences were also hers along to bear. Coming to the conclusion that her mission has suddenly become much more difficult, and that some additional assistance might be required, Jeanne directed her thoughts back towards the shuttle.  <Activate full security measures at once, and send a homing beacon to Zater'Enin.>

Had she possessed telepathic abilities the sending would have been much easier, but even with that handicap the shuttle somehow managed to pick her thoughts out of the hundreds of other minds nearby and soon there was a faint reply.  <Security system activated, Mistress> it reported.  <Energy reserves are sufficient to maintain shielding and minimal weapons for seventeen point three standard hours.> There was a brief pause and then the shuttle continued. <Zater'Enin contacted and is now en route. Estimated time of arrival, sixteen point one standard hours.>

Jeanne didn't bother with any further message, trusting in the living vessel to protect itself and inform her if anything else happened that she should be aware of. Instead, she rose and walked towards the door. There she paused, removing the entry card the rental agent had given her from a pocket. She examined it for a moment, before deciding it was worthless and tossing it onto a lounge chair near the entrance. She did not plan on returning to this room, so the card held little value to her now. 

With a final glance back at Zack, she pressed the door control and stepped out into the corridor, quickly shutting the door behind her again so no-one would see the security chief. Then she turned to walk along the corridor toward the core shuttle, only to pause at the last minute and stare in the other direction with a frown on her face. Several times during her guided tour through the station, she had felt eyes watching her. Most of the time, it had just turned out to be a curious passers-by, interested in her because she was with the station's chief of security. Other times though, there had been no-one there, just a long empty corridor as there was now. 

She examined the corridor closely for several second, before finally dismissing the feeling as paranoia. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the slip of paper that j'Nialth had handed her earlier that morning. During her tour of the station she had memorised every location of interest, as well as the comments that Zack had about each region. She knew now that the location chosen by j'Nialth for their meeting was very remote indeed, and for a moment wondered why the Thrakallan did not simply meet her in his shop. However, given the nature of their transaction, she understood the need for caution and did not disapprove of the decision to meet so far from the well travelled corridors of the Zocalo. Returning the note to her pocket, she left the room behind, walking swiftly along the passage towards the central corridor. 

Shortly after she had departed, there was a loud coughing sound a few metres along the corridor Jeanne had just examined thoroughly. A portion of the wall shimmered, as the human-sized figure hiding there moved, breaking the chameleon effect of the device he wore. He had been forced to hold his breath as Jeanne had looked in his direction, knowing that any sudden movement would have betrayed his position. 

Drawing several deep breaths, the figure soon recovered his composure and walked slowly over to the door Jeanne had just exited. As he walked, the air around him shimmered as the changeling net tried to compensate for his movement. Surprisingly, it did a reasonable job, making him appear like a man-sized object of roughly the same colour and texture as the wall and floor. When he paused by the door though, it did a better job, the holo-projectors effectively rendering him invisible. 

The figure glanced towards the corridor Jeanne had taken, as if undecided about following her, or remaining here to examine her quarters. Finally the watcher chose the later, looking around to be sure that no-one was watching, and then touching a control on his arm to deactivate the changeling net. The holo-projectors shut off immediately, exposing the rough, scarred features of Lynx Reisel, j'Nialth's chief lieutenant, spy, and head-kicker. 

Realising that if he was spotted wearing a changeling net, forbidden technology on Babylon 5, then he would be in for a lengthy spell in the brig, Lynx moved quickly. Tapping a few commands into the control panel, the device activated again, displaying an image that identical to his true form... only without the tell-tale holo-projectors and power supply showing. With the power of the changeling net, it would have been possible to appear as anyone whose image he had scanned and recorded, but Lynx liked to play on his reputation. J'Nialth may have given the changeling net so that he could slip unnoticed through the station's underworld to carry out the crime lord's business, but that didn't mean he had to use it all the time. 

Walking up to the door, Lynx hummed to himself as he examined the lock for several seconds. Then he reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a slim plastic card. He carefully lined it up with the door lock and then thrust it in, jumping back as the card exploded in a shower of sparks. Its lock now useless junk, the door cracked open just a fraction. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Lynx to get his hand inside and push it open the rest of the way. He then stepped through the door and stared in astonishment at the sight that greeted him. 

"Well, well, Mr. Security Chief," he chuckled. "It seems that you've got yourself into a little trouble this time." 

Then his face turned serious again and he slapped his hand down on the interior door control, which fortunately was still functioned. As the door slid shut, Lynx walked over the check Zack's pulse. Satisfied that the security chief was still alive... at least for now, Lynx turned his attention to the rest of the room. Lying on the bed was the white robe he has seen the woman he had been asked to tail wearing, and sitting on a bench in the tiny kitchen was the white cloth bag she had been carrying. Lynx picked up the bag and turned it inside out, but it was empty, so he tossed it onto the floor behind him. 

Annoyed, he turned to Zack. Spotting the chief's pistol lying on the floor, he was just bending over to pick it up when there was a sudden beeping sound. "Shit!" Lynx swore as he saw the link on the back of Zack's hand. He quickly snatched it up, then dropped it onto the floor and ground it beneath the heal of his boot, cutting off the connection before anyone could trace the link's location. Realising that if even a partial trace had been achieved he wouldn't have much time, he snatched up the PPG, depositing it in yet another pocket in his jacket as he hurried to complete his task. 

 

 

Lochley sighed wearily as she sat down at her desk. The meeting with Vizhak had gone just as she had expected... badly. Of course, it might have turned out better if her security chief had been present, instead of off chasing phantom smugglers. Pouring herself a steaming mug of coffee, she pushed thoughts about the Drazi ambassador to the back of her mind and turned to the collection of reports and files that had collected on her desk over the past few hours. No matter how long she was out of her office, even if it was only for a few minutes, something new also seemed to appear on her desk. It was one of less enjoyable parts of being the commander of a station the size of Babylon 5. 

Taking a long sip from her mug, Lochley placed it to one side, and turned to the first document. But, before she could even begin to start reading, her link beeped. Sighing, she tapped the receive button angrily. "What is it?" she snapped. 

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain," Lieutenant Corwin's voice replied. "I was wondering if you had seen Mr. Allan any time over the past hour." 

"No I haven't," she replied. "But if you see him, tell him I want to see him at once." 

"That may be a little difficult," Corwin said. "It appears that Mr. Allan has disappeared and isn't answering his link. I though he might be with you, but if you haven't seen him..." 

"Have you tried tracing his link?" Lochley asked, a cold feeling of apprehension gripping her. She could think of a few reasons why Zack wouldn't reply, but unfortunately none of them were very pleasant. 

"As soon as he didn't reply. But, his link went dead almost straight away and I wasn't able to get a lock." 

"All right, start tracing his movements. Do you know where he was last seen?" 

"Customs I think," Corwin replied. "He went to look the situation with that shuttle I pointed out to you this morning." 

Lochley frowning, thinking back to earlier that morning. She recalled the shuttle of course, as well as Zack's reasoning as to why he needed to check it out. She didn't remember hearing anything further though, so assumed that it mustn't have turned out to be important after all. "No-one has seen him since then?" she asked. 

"No," Corwin replied. "Although..." 

"What?" Lochley demanded. 

"The shuttle I mentioned. It has some sort of auto-defence system just attacked a scanning team in the docking bay. It blew up their equipment and set off every alarm in the docking bay. That's why I was looking for Mr. Allan." 

"Was anyone hurt?" 

"Just a few scratches and one broken ankle. But the scanner has been totalled and the Minbari government is probably going to have something to say about the damage to one of their flyers. I've already ordered..." 

"What were the scanning team doing there in the first place?" Lochley interrupted. "And why didn't our sensors detect that auto-defence system when the shuttle docked?" 

"Mr. Allan ordered the scan, and I don't know why the sensors aren't picking up weapons systems on that shuttle. It might have something to do with the distortion in the readings that I mentioned earlier." 

Lochley massaged her forehead, feeling a monster of a headache beginning to develop. "All right," she said finally. "Seal off that section of the docking bay and put a guard on that shuttle. I don't want anyone to go near it until we know how to deactivate that defence system. Then put out an alert regarding Mr. Allan, but try and keep it quiet. I don't want the whole station to know he is missing just yet. Finally, bring whoever saw Mr. Allan last to my office. If we are going to start searching for him, then we might as well know where to start." 

"I'll send for the security officers in the customs terminal," Corwin said. "I think they were the last to see Mr. Allan. C&C out." 

Lochley stared and the now silent link for several seconds. It wasn't like Zack Allan to not leave notice of where he was going, and it certainly wasn't like him to vanish without trace. There was something going on here, and she hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn't lead to the death of someone she considered a friend, not to mention a damn fine security chief. For a moment, she felt like leaping up from her chair and leading the search for Zack personally, but she realised that the search had to be done correctly if it was going to succeed, and rushing off before all the facts were known wouldn't help anything. She just hoped that, wherever he was, Zack was still alive and unharmed. 

 

 

Back in Jeanne's quarters, Lynx paused in his search, looking around and the scattered drawers and torn cloth. "Nothing," he muttered to himself. "Doesn't this bitch own anything of value?" Then he spotted a faint glitter beneath one of the lounge chairs, just behind Zack's head, and lying next to the white bag he had tossed away earlier in his search. Moving quickly, he crossed the room and crouched down near Zack, searching around with his hand until he encountered something hard. 

Pulling the object out from its hiding place, he found himself holding a small diamond, probably worth several thousand credits at current prices. Polishing the gem on his jacket, he held it up to the light. "Well, I wonder if you have any more friends around here, hmmm?" he said to the gem, still staring deeply into its glittering depths. A sudden beeping shook him from his dreamy examination of the stone though, and quickly slipping the diamond into one pocket, he pulled a short-range communicator from another. "Lynx here," he said as he switched the device on, already realising who it was that was calling him. 

"Where is human target?" j'Nialth's artificially generated voice asked, the Thrakallan's translator somehow managing to put an menacing edge to the words. 

"Heading for the rendezvous the last time I saw her," Lynx replied, well aware that she could be anywhere by now, but he assumed that she wasn't about to miss the meeting with j'Nialth, not after going to so much trouble to contact the Thrakallan in the first place. "She doesn't suspect a thing." 

"Good," j'Nialth replied. "Retrieve Centauri package and meet in my shop as soon as possible." 

"I'm on my way, Boss," Lynx replied, flicking off the communicator and slipping it back into his pocket. He looked over at the unconscious form of the security chief, a smile crossing his scarred face for the first time since he first enter the room. "Looks like you won't have the pleasure of my company for much longer, Chief. Oh well, I'll buy a drink for you the next time I'm in the casino. It's just a pity you won't be there to drink it." 

Reaching down, Lynx pulled a long-bladed knife from his boot sheath and ran the blade along Zack's throat. "I wonder what you're friends will think when they find you," he murmured. "I almost wish that I could be here to see their faces." 

 

 

Lochley paced angrily along in front of her desk, moving past the three security officers — the two who had last seen the chief, and their superior — and finally pausing in front of Corwin. "So let me get this straight," she began. "Mr. Allan was last seen in customs, meeting the pilot of the same shuttle which has been blowing up parts of docking bay six, and there hasn't been the slightest trace of him since." 

"There have been..." Corwin began. 

"A few rumours and sightings from every corner of the station," Lochley finished for him. "Which isn't a lot of help. Every report seem to contradict the other, and no-one is any closer to finding out where exactly he is." 

"Um, Captain," a timid female voice spoke up. 

Lochley turned on the speaker, one of the two officers who had been on duty in customs when Zack had been there. "What is it, Aldred," she demanded. 

"It is just an idea," the young security officer began nervously. When Lochley motioned for her to continue, her confidence grew. "If we assume that Chief Allan is still with this woman, Jeanne Darias, then it may be possible to locate her." 

"How?" Lochley asked. "We haven't had any luck finding her either. I agree that she is possibly responsible for Mr. Allan's disappearance, but I don't see how we will have any better luck finding her. Without Mr. Allan's link to trace his location, we don't have much to work with." 

"Not entirely true, Captain," Aldred corrected her. "She did mention that she was looking for quarters for her stay on the station, which was when Chief Allan offered to guide her there. So all we need to do is run a check for any rooms that have been rented out in her name and we may have something to go on." 

"Surely she would use a faked identicard," Corwin commented. 

"It's worth a try though," Lochley said, moving over to her desk. "The question is though, how are we going to do it." 

"I copied her information from the central computer on my way here," Aldred offered, producing a data crystal from her pocket. "When I heard the chief was missing, I thought it might come in handy. I know he was interested in her, and I thought...." Her voice trailed off as she realised that the Captain was holding out a hand. A little embarrassed, she handed over the crystal. 

Lochley accepted the data crystal and slid it into the reader. While she was waiting for the computer to copy the information, she turned back to Aldred and examined her with a curious expression on her face. "How long did you say you had been on the station?" she asked. 

"Just under five weeks," the young officer admitted. 

Lochley raised her eyebrows. "That is good work then." Just then the computer beeped to indicate that it had completed the transfer, so she turned back to the desk. "Computer begin scan using the inputed information. Search all rental accommodation on record." 

"Match found," the computer reported almost instantly. 

"Display Location!" Lochley almost shouted. A screen on the wall blinked to life, flicking through a plan of the station's levels, before finally ending on a schematic of a level in red sector. "She rented a room on Red 8," Lochley said, tapping the flashing indicator on the screen. "That's only about five minutes walk from here. If we hurry we can be there in three, so lets get moving. Lieutenant, you wait here. Everyone else, come with me." 

Corwin nodded and turned to watch as Lochley, closely followed by the trio of security officers hurried out of the room. He could understand their haste. If Zack Allan had been kidnapped by someone who meant him harm, then every second counted. Corwin only hoped that they got there in time. 

 

 

J'Nialth's office, the small room at the back of his jewellery shop, was not really equipped to hold a large number of beings, but somehow everyone fitted inside. In the centre of the room was a plain metal table — Thrakallans did not care much for luxurious furnishing, especially when they couldn't use most human furniture. On one side of the table crouched j'Nialth, whose long insectoid body was not really suited for a chair. A chair was positioned next to him, but it was currently empty, awaiting the arrival of his Lieutenant. On the other side of the desk sat Nicolai Luchenko and Alex Kurmis, and behind them the hulking forms of two Bilubi bodyguards. 

Another of the massive, frog-like humanoids stood behind j'Nialth, watching carefully as his Thrakallan master examined a recording of a distant jungle world, paying special attention to a heavy bag that two holographic figures were carrying onto a spaceship. 

"This is genuine?" j'Nialth asked, as soon as the recording had finished. He shut down the device and slid it back across the desk to Nicolai. 

"Of course," the Russian promised him. "I would not try to cheat you." 

J'Nialth clicked his mandibles together. "Everyone tries to cheat me sometime," he told Nicolai. "You have not yet, but you may soon. You have proof of this? I know of this world you speak of, it is within the border of Vorlon space. An expedition would be very expensive and I must be assured of profit before I would assist you. Warriors and starships are not cheap and many will be required." 

Nicolai smiled, removing a heavy package wrapped in cloth from his pocket and passing it across to j'Nialth. "I think you will find these genuine enough," he told the Thrakallan, pulling aside a flap of cloth to reveal a pile of large diamonds and a single huge ruby that was at least two centimetres across. "These are only some of the smallest of the gems I collected while on Arias, there were still tens of thousands more, just lying around waiting for someone to take them." 

One of j'Nialth's bodyguard handed him a mineral scanner from a shelf on the wall behind the two humans, and j'Nialth ran it across the gems, his eyes lighting up with greed when the scanner confirmed the truth of Nicolai's words. The scan complete, he placed the scanner down on the table and then carefully covered the gems again. "These are genuine," he admitted. "But how do I know there are more? Perhaps you have already taken all gems." 

"You have my word," Nicolai replied. "And, you have seen the recording, surely that is enough evidence for you." 

"Recordings can be faked easily, and promises mean nothing to my kind." 

Nicolai smiled again, reaching across and pushing the gems towards j'Nialth. "Then keep these. If what I say is true, then I will be able to replace them quite easily when you take control of Arias. If not, then you will still keep a tidy profit, more than enough to cover the cost of buying a small starship and equipping it for an expedition to the world." 

"Are you out of your mind!" Alex cut in, looking incredulously at Nicolai. There has to be at least two million credits worth of gemstones there and you're just going to give them to him." 

"Do we have a deal, j'Nialth?" Nicolai asked again, ignoring the telepath's outburst. "The gems for the woman. Surely that is enough to buy your assistance." 

Any answer j'Nialth might have given was cut short as an alarm suddenly sounded. "Someone approaches," j'Nialth said, sliding the gems back to Nicolai and turning swivelling his head to face the wall behind him. He examined a monitor mounted on the wall for a second, before saying, "there is no problem, it is Lynx. He is expected." 

All heads at the table turned to face the door as Lynx pushed aside the bead curtain and strode into the office. Behind him came an average-sized Centauri, dressed in some of the finest clothing Nicolai had ever seen. "Quite a gathering you have here, boss," Lynx commented as he walked over and took the empty seat beside the crime lord. If j'Nialth was angry with the lack of respect shown by his underling, he gave no sign, but Nicolai, who had known the Thrakallan a lot longer than anyone else at the table, knew that unless Lynx curtailed his behaviour there would be a new lieutenant sitting at j'Nialth's side the next time they met. 

"Who's this?" Nicolai asked suspiciously, indicating the Centauri who had arrived with Lynx. 

J'Nialth waved one of his claws in a dismissive gesture. "You have your insurance, I have mine." He then swivelled his head to face the Centauri. "I trust you had a good journey, Lord Pernimi?" 

"I've had better," Aragon replied. "Do these... humans have something to do with me?" 

"A minor problem I desire your assistance with, nothing more," j'Nialth replied, his mandibles making a faint clicking sound, one Nicolai recognised now as the Thrakallan form of laughter. He frowned at j'Nialth, knowing from past experience that an amused Thrakallan was not usually the sort of Thrakallan you wanted to be around. 

"What sort of 'minor problem'?" Aragon asked suspiciously. "Remember, I don't work for you j'Nialth." 

"You need my help, so now you work for me," j'Nialth replied. Then, when Aragon looked ready to argue the point, he added, "unless you want me to contact your former employers and inform them of your current location. I have promised to assist you, now you will assist me. That is our agreement." 

Aragon nodded slowly. "That is true," he admitted. "But remember to keep your end of the bargain, j'Nialth. I am not one to cross, and you don't have the entire Centauri imperial guard to back you up, unlike the last person who crossed me." 

"A simple service, nothing more. Succeed and I will grant you what you desire." J'Nialth did not bother to tell Aragon the price for failure, but Nicolai, who had seen such dealings before, knew that the Centauri telepath would be very lucky to escape with his life if j'Nialth, or indeed any Thrakallan, wished him dead. 

"All right," Aragon sighed. "What is it you require of me?" 

"In a moment," j'Nialth said, turning around to face Nicolai again. "Our negotiations are complete. I accept your terms. I will get location of the mine, pass codes for planet's defences and half share of all profits. You will get human female's body, and after expenses, the other half share of profits. This is acceptable?" 

Nicolai almost smiled then, realising that j'Nialth, as always, had worded the contract so he would end up with nothing if he agreed to it. He had no doubt that the 'expenses' that the Thrakallan talked about would eventually total the amount of credits he would get from his half share of Arias' gem mines, but he didn't really care. "Agreed," he said, nodding his head in j'Nialth's direction 

J'Nialth didn't reply for several seconds, staring at Nicolai, almost as if he was suspicious of the human's motives. Nicolai wondered if he should have tried to haggle, j'Nialth might have expected that and now his suspicions would be aroused. Whatever suspicions the Thrakallan might have had weren't apparent in this next statement though. "It is settled then," the crime lord said, sounding pleased. "Now all we must do is collect our key and claim our prize." 

"As long as we have the right bait," Nicolai added. "We still need to lay the trap." 

J'Nialth gestured to one of the bodyguards, who carefully placed a small metallic case on the table. "When she contacted me, bargain was for this. She will be there." 

"What is it?" Alex asked, staring at the curious object. 

"A Thrakallan code slicer," Nicolai answered, shaking his head in amazement. "I'm surprised you managed to get it onto the station, j'Nialth. Those things have a fairly distinctive energy signature, and I image security would be on the look out for something like that." 

"I have my ways," the Thrakallan answered mysteriously. "It is here — and now — so is she. I have arranged to meet her today to exchange slicer for many credits. You will go instead and force her to tell you codes for gem planet's defence system. Agreed?" 

Alex looked doubtful, but Nicolai nodded. "That is acceptable, j'Nialth." 

"Good, then go now, meeting is for two hours from now. Lynx will guide you and my bodyguards will assist." 

"And him?" Nicolai asked, pointing to Aragon, who was watching the whole proceedings with a disinterested expression on his face. 

"He has other mission," j'Nialth replied. "Wait outside while I inform him of what is required. Lynx and Lord Pernimi will join you shortly." 

Nicolai nodded and gestured for Alex to follow him as he headed back into the jewellery store. Alex eyed j'Nialth suspiciously for several seconds before standing and walking slowly to the exit. As soon as they had departed, j'Nialth flicked a wall-mounted switch, activating a noise dampener to ensure that Nicolai could no longer hear any conversation that took place in the room, and gestured for Aragon to sit. "You don't need to bother, j'Nialth," Aragon said as he sat opposite the Thrakallan. "I already know what you are planning, you just need to tell me my part in it." 

"You should not spy in my mind, Centauri," j'Nialth warned. "I need you now, but do not think that I would allow you to live if you know too much." 

"I don't," Aragon replied. "Just that you are planning to betray the humans. Just tell me my part in this, so I can complete by debt to you and get off this station before the Emperor finds out I'm here. I'm sure I've already been seen by his spies and if he know I'm here, then his assassins won't be far behind." 

"It's not assassins you have to worry about, Certauri," Lynx said, getting his feet and walking around behind the seated Aragon. "It's me. If you don't do what the boss asks, then it is me you will be answering to." 

Aragon sighed. "What is it you want j'Nialth?" 

J'Nialth leaned closer, staring straight at Aragon. "It is wealth that I seek, a vast wealth that will make me ruler of entire homeworld. Human female is key to wealth. She knows secret ways to Vorlon world and you will bring her knowledge to me. For this I help you, and for no other reason. Agree now or die." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Aragon saw one of the bodyguard levelling a high-yield energy weapon in his direction. J'Nialth obviously thought that he could threaten him into agreeing to his terms. Aragon could already think of five different ways he could incapacitate the bodyguard, along with everyone else in the room, but for some strange reason found himself captivated by j'Nialth's story. Perhaps it was the mention of the enigmatic Vorlons — a race that had always fascinated him, ever since his father vanished on an expedition to into Vorlon space — or maybe it was just his lack of direction since his departure from Centauri space, but whatever the reason, Aragon found himself agreeing to j'Nialth proposal. 

"Very well, j'Nialth," he replied, taking no notice of the Bilubi bodyguard. "I will do this, it should prove... very interesting, very interesting indeed." 

 

 

Word of Zack's possible location had spread fast and by the time Lochley reached the corridor where the room was located, two security officers were already there, attempting to force the door open. "Nearly there, Captain," one of them grunted, his muscles straining as he attempted to widen the gap between door and frame, the broken lock preventing the normal override codes from working. That finally push though, seemed to do something, as there was a hissing sound and the door slid back into the wall. 

Lochley, Sonia Aldred, and the other members of security with them, leapt into the room, weapons drawn in case there was anyone waiting for them. Instead all they found was the still unconscious form of Zack Allen, swinging slowly in the faint breeze from the environmental system, which someone had set to its coldest possible setting. The security chief was almost naked, wearing only his underwear, his uniform used to tie his feet to a light setting, so he hung with his head swinging just above the floor. His eyes were closed and he appeared oblivious to the whole situation. 

"He's alive, Captain," Aldred, quickly checking Zack's pulse. 

The Captain nodded, having already noticed that the security chief was still breathing, his breath visible as a faint mist in the chilly air. She turned to the Narn officer who accompanied Aldred from customs. "Get him down!" she snapped, her voice carrying more than a trace of anger over the way her security chief had been treated. 

The Narn nodded and with the assistance of the two who had forced the door open, carefully lifted Zack down and laid him out on the bed. Zack did not react as they moved him, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still alive. "I think we had better get him medical assistance, "Aldred suggested, after quickly examining Zack for injuries. "There is a small wound in the chief's shoulder, but I'm more concerned about the effects this cold might have had on him." 

Lochley nodded again, noticing the extreme cold in the room for the first time. Her mind had registered that it was cold as soon as she had entered the room, but after seeing Zack hanging there, she had paid little attention to the temperature until now. Tapping her link, she placed a call for a medical team to come and retrieve Zack. 

"What do we do now?" the young security officer asked, as soon as Lochley had complete her call to Medlab. She looked up at the Captain, as if looking for guidance now that Zack was incapacitated.. 

"Organise a search," Lochley said, her voice calm despite the anger she was feeling. "I want this entire station covered from bow to stern. Wherever the woman who did this is hiding, I want her found and arrested. No-one does this sort of thing to my chief of security on my station and gets away with it. I don't care who you have to question, I want her found." 


	4. Chapter 4

ACT THREE

 

Grey 19 was one of the more remote sections of the station. Its main function was to house part of the station's recycling system, consisting of a network of pipes and tanks that carried and stored waste from across the station to be recycled and turned into fresh water and protein. It was also one of the quietest levels on Babylon 5. Gone was the constant throb of conversation and movement as tens of thousands of station residents went about their business. Instead, there was just the low background hum from heavy machinery located on the upper levels... and the occasional gurgle from the pipes. 

Walking slowly along one empty corridor, Jeanne Darias paid little attention to the odd noises the pipe made. Her attention was focused on the path before her. The corridor was darker than most she had seen in her travels so far, the station's designers seeing little need to fully illuminate the least used portions of the station, although they had deemed it necessary to install security cameras and monitoring devices. She had noticed several of these, but had ignored them, assuming that j'Nialth had already disabled them. 

A large red tank loomed in the distance, the rendezvous location j'Nialth had indicated in his message. Two more tanks, these a dull grey in colour, lay further down the corridor, surrounded by a network of colour-coded pipes and valves. The exact use of these tanks was not known to Jeanne, and she had little interest in such matters. The red tank was simply a place to meet, and so she stood in its shadow and waited. There was a single light a short distance down the corridor, but it was not strong enough to illuminate the whole corridor, providing a round circle of light, but doing little to push back the shadows that gathered around the tanks. 

Nearly ten minutes past, and then suddenly, she detected a noise somewhere behind her, the faint sound of someone's shoe scuffing against the floor as they attempted to move quietly. "Who is there?" she asked, looking into the darkness. In response to her question, a tall blonde-haired man walked out into the light. His soft leather boots squeaked faintly as he walked, and he wore a dark jacket crafted from the skin of some scaled, reptilian creature. The was a bulge in one pocket of the jacket, where the edge of a large rectangular shaped package just poked out. But, it was his face that Jeanne noticed most of all. It was covered with scars, from a long jagged scar that ran from his forehead, though one eye, and then all the way down to his chin, to a network of fine scars covering his right cheek. "Who are you?" she asked finally. "I was expecting j'Nialth." 

"J'Nialth was too busy to attend personally," the man told her, pausing a few metres away. "He sent me instead. I'm his chief lieutenant, Lynx Reisel." 

Jeanne examined his impassive face for several long seconds, before finally nodding, accepting his story. "Do you have what I require?" she inquired. 

"Of course," Lynx replied, taking the package j'Nialth had given him earlier out of his pocket. Removing the lid, he held the round shape of the code slicer up into the light, so she could see it. With the light glinting off its smooth metal surface, it looked a little like a large black beetle, its rounded shell containing the processors and power source, while underneath, currently hidden in Lynx's palm, were an array of legs, the attachments needed to link to the computers and locks it was accessing. "This is latest model from the artificers on Beta Lyrae," Lynx continued, after he was sure Jeanne had taken a long enough to confirm that he held the genuine article. "It can hack all major security systems, including anything Earthforce has to offer. There is even a rumour that a Thrakallan once used one of these to access the Vorlon communications grid." 

"I find that very difficult to believe," Jeanne cut in, impatient to end the meeting and continue on her way. "However, it is still suitable for my purposes." 

Lynx smiled, placing the device back into its case and closing the lid. "There is a small problem, I'm afraid," he told her, returning the case to his pocket. "J'Nialth has decided that the price you offered was not enough." 

"The price was decided," Jeanne reminded him, her voice low and dangerous. "J'Nialth agreed." 

"True," Lynx confirmed, shrugging his shoulders as if to say that he had nothing to do with it. "It appears though, that j'Nialth has found someone who is willing to pay more, much more. Only they don't want the slicer, they want you instead." 

"Me?" she asked in amazement, before suddenly freezing as someone cried out, "Alex! stop, don't..." 

There was a whine of a PPG pistol powering up, and by the time Jeanne had finished turning around, she found herself staring right down the barrel of the energy weapon. The thin, dark-haired man who held the weapon took a step forward. "Time to die," he said, his eyes flashing with anger as he raised the weapon and pulled the trigger. 

As the PPG discharged, the darkened corridor was suddenly lit up by the brilliant flash of light. Jeanne threw herself to one side, but wasn't quite quick enough, the plasma bolt catching her in the shoulder. She flinched slightly, but ignored the injury, ducking down and sweeping her leg around in front of her, just catching Alex's leg with her foot. The telepath, who was preparing to fire again, suddenly found himself falling, his legs swept out from beneath him. He fired anyway, but the shot went wide, impacting somewhere in the ceiling, a small shower of sparks raining down on the combatants. 

Moving so fast that her hands were barely visible, Jeanne brushed back her coat, exposing the pistol she had used on Zack earlier. By the time Alex was landing heavily on the floor, his own weapon flying from his hands, Jeanne was drawing her pistol and silently willing it to activate. It took nearly a second for the weapon to power up, and in that time, the corridor around her erupted with movement. Behind her, Lynx drew his own pistol and calmly shot her in the back. Again, she ignored the energy blast, as if it had no effect on her, and instead waited for her weapon to finish powering itself.  

At the other end of the corridor, the large forms of two aliens suddenly appeared out of the darkness, each raising their own weapons to fire. But she ignored them all. The pistol had finished drawing the necessary energy from her body to power itself and with a faint frown creasing her brow, she raised the weapon and fired at Alex, the tiny dart the gun fired hitting the telepath in the centre of the back... just as he was attempting to recover his lost weapon. His hand closed around the pistol and he began to turn around, before the drug carried by the dart quickly overcame his body's defences and he slumped down onto the deck. 

As soon as she had fired, Jeanne ducked, just avoiding the two powerful streams of energy that sprang from the guns of the two Bilubi bodyguards. The Bilubi — huge, hulking, green-skinned creatures with wide mouths, flabby skin and round, saucer-like eyes — fired again, but Jeanne rolled aside, the dangerous energy weapons hitting the deck instead, melting the metal plating and sending a shower of sparks and molten metal flying into the air. 

Jeanne came out of her roll with her weapon readied and fired quickly in the direction where she had last seen Lynx. J'Nialth's lieutenant twisted aside, somehow managing to avoid the dart, which ricocheted off into the darkness, causing someone hidden behind the tank to scurry for cover. However, he was too slow to avoid the second dart, which followed about half a second later, hitting him just above the knee. He clutched his hand to the wound, before slumping over and falling to the deck. 

As Jeanne stared into the darkness, trying to determine who was hiding at the behind the tank — and if the person there was a threat and therefore a viable target — the two Bilubi warriors looked at each other, the larger of the two using his expressive facial muscles to silently communicate his intentions to the other. The second Bilubi nodded, and then they both turned and fired at once, the energy streams from their weapons catching Jeanne in the middle of her back. 

She staggered momentarily, before catching herself and standing upright, the energy weapons appearing to have no effect whatsoever. The two Bilubi glanced at each other. "Armour," one croaked, indicating the long coat Jeanne wore — which, despite being hit several times, still appeared to be undamaged. A few whips of smoke curled upward from the garment, but the were no other signs that it she had even been hit at all. 

"Body protected, aim for head," the other replied, raising his weapon and firing directly at Jeanne's face, just as she was turning to face them. The second warrior joined in, his weapon hitting Jeanne in the neck, the pale skin where the energy beam struck darkening rapidly under the fierce assault.  

The two warrior were nodding to each, pleased that they were finally having an effect, when Jeanne raised her pistol and fired twice, both darts striking home in the centre of the Bilubi's expansive chests, right between their two hearts. The smaller of the two staggered backwards, dropping his weapon and clawing at his chest with thick, scaly fingers. The second warrior was shaken by the wound, but didn't move, holding his position and keeping a firm grip on his weapon, ignoring the way his fellow warrior was writhing around on the deck. 

Jeanne calmly raised a hand to ward off some of the effects of the energy weapon and then shot the Bilubi again, hitting him in almost the same location as the first dart, right in the centre of his broad chest. This time the large warrior fell, although his collapse was more gradual. The combined effects of the two darts worked away at him until he could no longer stand upright, slumping down into his knees. He still held his weapon though, right up until he was finally overcome by the drugged darts and could no longer keep his eyes open. The heavy weapon slipping from rapidly numbing fingers, he collapsed sideways, banging his head against the red tank as he fell. 

Slowly lowering her weapon, Jeanne watched sadly as the Bilubi twitched once and then fell silent. She quickly kicked the warrior's weapon aside, just in case he recovered consciousness again and then crouched down to check that both aliens were still alive. A small trickle of greenish-white blood ran from the wounds the darts had caused, but apart from that they both appeared to be alive and well. In fact, the smaller of the two — the one she had struck with only one dart — was actually snoring, a low rumbling sound that made his fleshy chin wobble. 

Then she remembered that there were still at least two more possible assailants left, the one she had detected hiding in the shadows behind Lynx and the being who had alerted her to the ambush, calling out to the one who had first fired on her. Standing, she peering down the corridor, trying to penetrate the darkness. Spotting someone moving towards her from the same direction as the first attacker had come from, she raised her weapon again.  

But, it was already to late. There was a loud crack and a heavy lead bullet tore into her shoulder, ricocheting off her shoulder blade and tearing another hole on the way out. The small pistol fell from suddenly numb fingers and she clasped her other hand to the wound. Her coat may have stopped energy weapons, but the more primitive projectile weapon had left two large jagged holes, though which pale, almost luminescent blood was currently seeping. Gritting her teeth in pain, Jeanne reached for her pistol, but her attacker fired again, this time hitting her in the lower leg. As her leg collapsed beneath her, Jeanne made one last desperate attempt to grab her pistol, only to have it kicked away from her at the last moment. 

"Sorry about this," Nicolai Luchenko said, bringing his boot down hard on Jeanne's hand. "I can't have you shooting me like you did the others." 

"Who are you?" Jeanne demanded, jerking her hand back before Nicolai could stomp on it again. 

"You don't remember me?" Nicolai inquired, covering her with his revolver, while he quickly looked up and down the corridor. "Where is that Centauri," he muttered, before shrugging — assuming that Aragon had fled at the first sign of trouble — and turning back to Jeanne. "I visited your world once," he told her. "Surely you remember that, I don't think you had many visitors before my vessel arrived." 

"My world?" Jeanne asked, appearing confused. 

Nicolai peered closely at her, noting the way she shivered slightly and the glazed look in her eyes. He frowned hoping he hadn't hurt her too badly. All the information he had suggested that she could not be harmed by any weapon, yet looking at her now, he was beginning to disbelieve his own research. "Arias," he prompted. "You remember Arias don't you?" 

"Of course," she replied. "But I claim no ownership of that world, nor any other." She paused, dragging herself across the deck in an attempt to put some distance between her and the dangerous weapon Nicolai held. "I remember you know," she said finally. "You were among those who came nearly a year ago, seeking wealth and power, but all you found was me and those I protected." 

"That's right," Nicolai smiled evilly. "You know who I am... and I know what you are. Earthforce tried to cover you up, placing a ban on all expeditions to Vorlon space, knowing that anyone who travelled there could discover you... and what you knew. I know you served the Vorlons, and I know what they gave you." 

"You can not," Jeanne replied, one hand edging towards a hidden dagger. She moved slowly, not wanting to give the impression that she was actually less injured than she appeared to be. 

"I know they made you immortal," Nicolai snapped. "The Vorlons didn't want their little pet to die, so they extended your life. I also know that you still know the secret of the process they used on you. Tell me and I will let you go." 

Jeanne shook her head. "No, you are not ready for immortality. Those who seek to live forever are not worthy of such a gift... or curse. Whether you're born immortal, or — like I was — made so unknowingly, this 'curse' would twist most human souls into dark shapes best left alone." 

"Wrong answer," Nicolai snarled, squeezing the trigger again, shooting her in the hand, the same one that was edging towards her hidden weapon. As Jeanne gasped in pain, he calmly pointed the weapon toward the centre of her chest. "Now tell me, or I will kill you and take the secret from your lifeless corpse. It will take me a bit longer, but I will still have what I want." Seeing Jeanne was about to speak, he quickly cut in. "And don't think you can trick me by telling me that you are immortal and therefore can not die. I've learned enough about the process to know that it doesn't prevent death, only stops you from aging. If I put a bullet through your heart, you are just as dead as anyone else. So tell me, or I'll fire." 

Jeanne smiled wanly at him. "No," she said. "You are not worthy." 

"Damn you!" Nicolai shouted. "I don't want to have to kill you. You are supposed to give me what I want, not refuse." 

"Turn and walk away," Jeanne told him. "Leave here now and there is still a chance for you. Do not surrender to darkness, for even if you obtain your goal, your reward will be tainted by the evil you have done." 

"Shut up!" Nicolai demanded, pressing the barrel of his revolver up against Jeanne's chest. "Tell me now!" 

Jeanne simply shook her head. "No." 

Snarling, Nicolai pulled the trigger, the sound of the weapon firing echoing along the corridor as the heavy slug tore through Jeanne's chest. Pale blood rapidly filling the fist sized hole in her chest, Jeanne clutched at Nicolai's shirt, her eyes opened wide in pain and surprise. Then a faint smile drifted across her face and ever so slowly her eyes closed and she slumped back onto the deck. Nicolai's hand trembled as he looked down at the weapon in his hand. Then his face hardened and he stood, tucking the revolver into his belt. He stared cautiously in both directions, making sure that no-one had seen what he had just done and then bent down to pick up Jeanne's body. 

Then, he gave a gasp of horror, as Jeanne's right hand shot up and closed his throat. His finger scratching and tearing at her hand in attempt to free himself, Nicolai could only watch in pure terror as she opened her eyes and he found himself staring into pit of white fire. "You were warned," she said, her voice taking on an distant, almost musical, tone, as if every word she uttered was being echoed by someone speaking only in musical notes. "Now you must learn the folly of your actions." 

Tugging on her fingers with all his strength, Nicolai somehow managed to break free and stumbled backwards several steps, reaching for his revolver, while at the same time trying to get as far away from Jeanne as possible. As he raised the weapon, Jeanne lashed out, knocking the revolver out of his hand with a quick spinning kick, and sending the gun flying off into the darkness. Almost instinctively, Nicolai turned his head to watch the weapons passage, only to realise his folly too late, as Jeanne's fist smashed into his jaw with bone crunching strength. Without another sound, he crashed to the deck unconscious, sprawling across the metal floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. 

As soon as he fell, Jeanne stopped, the glowing light in her eyes slowly fading away as she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Leaning heavily against one wall, she glanced down at the wound in her chest, pulling aside the torn material off her shirt and watching as the flesh began to knit together again. The glowing, luminescent blood that had flooded the wound, now worked to repair the damage, slowly melding together the torn flesh until her skin was smooth and unblemished. The wound vanished so fast, it was actually possible to see the flesh healing and the blood slowly being reabsorbed by the restored skin. 

Sighing to herself, Jeanne smoothed out her shirt, trying to cover up the worst of the damage, but soon gave that idea up and turned her attention to her other wounds. They healed in much the same way, although they took longer, as if the effort was taking its toll on her strength. Now fully healed, Jeanne picked up her pistol, and then walked along the corridor to where Lynx lay, remembering that there was still some unfinished business to take care. "You can come out now," she called to the last conscious member of the ambush party, who was still cowering behind the large red tank. "Unless you also wish to attack me as these others have done." 

"I wish you no harm," Aragon told her, coming out from behind the tank. He held up his hands with the palms facing outwards, to indicate that he was carrying no weapons. "It is not my choice to be here." 

"You attempted to look into my mind," Jeanne said, her calm, even-toned voice giving Aragon no hint of what emotion she might be feeling. "I felt your touch earlier, and I think I know what you sought. Why should I believe what you say now." 

"You could detect that?" Aragon asked incredulously. He had attempted to scan her as she had battled with Lynx, but had been unable to penetrate a mental shield of some kind that was protecting her mind. 

Jeanne reached up and touched the circuit she wore. "I... They touched my mind many times. I learned to detect and later shut out their thoughts, just as I have done with you." She paused for a moment, gazing into down the darkened corridor with a distant look in her eyes. Then she looked back at Aragon and scowled at him. "Do not do that again," she told him firmly. 

"It is not my decision," Aragon replied, glancing down at the unconscious form of Lynx Reisel. "J'Nialth gave me no choice. It was either do his bidding or die." 

"There is always a choice," Jeanne replied. "Make sure you make the right one next time." She knelt next to Lynx, and ran her hands along his leg until she found the site where her dart had struck him. As Aragon watched, she took a small phial containing a syrupy violet liquid from her pocket, unscrewed the lid and allowed two drops to fall onto the wound. "He will recover," she told the Centauri, returning the phial to her pocket. 

"Why?" Aragon asked. Jeanne looked at him, a curious expression on her face and the Centauri quickly hurried to clarify his meaning. "Why heal him? He tried to kill you, why not just let him die?" 

Jeanne looked shocked by his suggestion. "I do not kill," she replied angrily. "If I end his life now then I am not better than he, nor any better than the creature that dispatched him on this mission of betrayal. My weapons are designed to defend, not to kill. You should learn from this example." 

Aragon nodded, looking over at the crumpled form of Nicolai Luchenko, and deciding not to press the issue. "What now then?" he asked. 

"My task is not yet finished," Jeanne said softly, tugging the case containing the code slicer out of Lynx's pocket. "I made a deal with j'Nialth and I will keep to the letter of our agreement, even if he did not." She placed the case in one of her own pockets and then retrieved the large cloth-wrapped package she had placed in an inner pocket earlier. Unwrapping it, she selected several large diamonds from the pile of glittering gemstones the package contained, and slipped them into the same pocket she had taken the slicer from. "That was the price we agree upon," she said finally, standing again. 

"A high price indeed," Aragon commented, although when he spoke his eyes wandered down the corridor to rest on the crumpled forms of the Bilubi bodyguards and the two humans. 

Suddenly, Lynx stirred, moaning as he shifted around on the deck. "As I promised, he will recover," Jeanne told him, moving away from the Centauri. "Ensure that he is returned to j'Nialth along with the stones. The others will also recover, although not as quickly as this one." 

"Wait!" Aragon cried. "I have one last question." 

"Then ask it." 

Aragon hesitated for a moment "I was just wondering," he began finally. "How did you survive being shot like that? A wound like that to any other creature would have meant certain death. I mean, he shot you right through the heart!" 

"I have no heart left to injure," Jeanne replied softly, before turning and walking away from Aragon, back along the corridor towards the lifts. Then she was gone, stepping over Nicolai and disappearing into the darkness, although Aragon could still see her for several second more, her pale skin gleaming ghost-like as she retreated into the distance. 

Shaking his head in amazement, Aragon leant down and helped a groggy Lynx get to his feet. The Centauri knew that security was bound to be attracted by the sounds of gunfire, even with all the cameras and other monitoring devices out of action. Half carrying, half pulling Lynx, Aragon stumbled off in the opposite direction, heading for the small service elevator they had used to enter this level. 

 

 

Medlab 1 was unusually quiet by the time Lochley arrived. Normally, it was a hive of frantic activity, with doctors and nurses all rushing around attending to patients, or conducting tests, or doing whatever it was doctors did when no-one else was around. Today though, there were only three doctors on duty, all gathered around a single operating table, on which lay the unconscious form of Zack Allan. At the head of the table was the unmistakable figure of Dr. Lillian Hobbs, the dark-haired woman supervising the work of another doctor, who was bent over Zack's body, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead as he worked. 

Lochley's view of what was going on was blocked by the rotund figure of the third doctor, but she could hear Dr. Hobbs speaking softly. "Easy now," she was saying. "Don't let those barbs catch again. We don't want to have to start this procedure from the beginning." The doctor conducting the operation nodded briefly, and then slowly eased his arm up, extracting something from Zack's shoulder. There was an audible sigh of relief from all three doctors and with only the slightest shudder in his hands, he lifted a pair of medical clamps — which were grasping a tiny, barbed dart that appeared to glisten in the bright lights — away from the table and dropped the dart into a basin that sat on a nearby bench. 

Noticing Lochley waiting patiently near the entrance, Lillian tapped the third doctor on the shoulder. "Seal the wound and put a regeneration patch on that shoulder. Make sure he is stable and then go to help Harris." Then, she turned to the other doctor. "Harris, you start the analysis on that projectile. I want a full biochemical workup. There has to be some sort of drug or chemical on it. I want an analysis done, then get the computer to match it with our records." Harris nodded in acknowledgement, and only then did Lillian turned back to the captain. "And what can I do for you, Captain?" she asked. 

"How is he?" 

Lillian shrugged. "We don't know yet. He should be fine, the dart did some minor damage the muscles in his shoulder, but he won't suffer any long-term effects from that. However, we don't know what was on the dart yet. I suspect some sort of paralysing venom, possibly organic in nature, although I can think of a few artificial chemicals that will have the same effect. I just..." 

"Doctor Hobbs!" Dr. Harris called out, interrupting what his superior had been planning to say. 

"What is it?" she asked, walking quickly over to see what had excited the other doctor. Lochley followed, although she was little more cautiously — especially around the delicate looking instruments and equipment that were cluttered on top of tables, benches and trolleys. 

Dr. Harris moved to one side so the two women could gather around his table he was working at. "I think this thing is alive," he said, pointing to the dart he had placed on a tray in preparation for his analysis. "It's moving." 

Lillian Hobbs leaned closer, trying to see what Harris had spotted, but then she saw what the other doctor had noticed. The tiny barbs, which the dart had jabbed into Zack's flesh to complicate any attempt to remove it, were now suddenly retracting back into the smooth metallic surface of the projectile.

"Some sort of mechanical device?" Lochley asked. "I know some of the more advanced alien races have smart projectiles that can track their targets, although I've never heard of one this small before."

Lillian shook her head. "I don't think so... Harris, hand me that scanner." Her assistant nodded and passed over the instrument she had indicated. Lillian quickly ran the device above the dart, nodded to herself as the readings confirmed her suspicions. "It's organic technology," she told the others. "A living machine of some kind. It is constructed of mainly organic components, with no detectable moving parts, although I am registering regions that could be specialised internal organs." 

"Does that help us discover what has happened to Mr. Allen," Lochley asked. 

"Perhaps," Lillian mused, running the scanner over the dart again. Looking at the readings, she frowned and then double checked them. "It looks likes there is some sort of reservoir near the point of the dart. That could be where the poison or drug is stored. If I can get a sample then I might be able to concoct an antidote of some kind." 

Anything Lochley had been about to say was suddenly interrupted by a beep from her link. "Lochley here," she said, stepping away from the two doctors and tapping the device to receive the incoming call. 

"C&C, Captain," the voice of Lieutenant Corwin answered. "We have just had reports of heavy weapons fire in Grey 19. Security is already converging on the scene, but I thought you would like to be informed." 

"Tell them I'm on my way. Lochley out." Lochley looked apologetically over at Dr. Hobbs. "I have to go. I'll be back in an hour or so to check on Mr. Allan's condition. Keep me informed if anything happens." 

"Hopefully, we will have a cure for this drug by then, Captain," Lillian said, motioning to Harris to hand her a particularly delicate looking instrument from one of the trolleys. 

"Good luck then," Lochley said, taking a quick look over at Zack and then hurrying out of Medlab and heading off down the corridor that lead towards the nearest lift. 

 

 

"In here," Lynx said, pointing to a door on the opposite side of the corridor. J'Nialth's lieutenant was limping slightly, his leg still numb where the dart had struck it, but he appeared to have recovered from the worst effects of the paralysing venom the dart had secreted into his body. 

Aragon frowned at the door, which had a sign indicating that it belonged to a seller of crystal vases and other similar products. There were two large windows on either side of the door, each filled with shelves containing the shopkeeper's wares. Aragon was interested in such fine merchandise, but not right at the moment. All he wanted to do right now was get back to j'Nialth's place and then hopefully conclude the deal he had with the Thrakallan and get off the station. "That's not j'Nialth's stall," he argued. "In fact, we are not even in the market area." 

Lynx ignored the Centauri's reluctance and pushed him into the shop. "The Zocalo is in the central corridor," he explained. "This is the next corridor over. J'Nialth has a deal with the owner of this shop to provide access to his shop, just in case of emergencies." 

The shopkeeper nodded once at Lynx when they entered, before brushing aside a curtain and ushering them into a back room. As the curtain fell down again to block the vision of anyone observing from the shop, Lynx crossed quickly to the far side of the room and pressed a small button, which had been mounted just above the floor, almost hidden behind several boxes. A section of the wall next to the button cracked open and, giving that section a push, Lynx stepped through the newly revealed door into j'Nialth's office. A little more cautiously, Aragon followed. 

J'Nialth — who was crouching behind his desk as they entered — looked up expectantly, his multi-faceted eyes flicking from Lynx to Aragon and then on to the door behind them, which was silently closing. "Where are others?" he demanded. "Where is human and my servants?" 

"Sorry, Boss," Lynx said, exaggerating his limp, as if to say that he had tried his best and barely even managed to survive. "I don't know who or what that woman was, but none of our weapons had any effect. She took us out one by one, I only just managed to survive." 

"She let him go," Aragon added, deciding that the truth was the best method of dealing with the angry Thrakallan. "After knocking everyone else out with some sort of stun weapon, she took the package and put three diamonds in your lieutenant's pocket." 

Lynx shot the telepath a look of anger. He had been hoping to keep the stones in case he needed to get off the station quickly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the diamonds and placed them carefully on the table in front of j'Nialth. "I was about to mention them," Lynx said, before quickly telling the Thrakallan the details of what had happened, although most of his story was fairly sketched, especially the parts that happened after he had been stunned. 

J'Nialth waited until he had finished and then looked up at Aragon. "Where is information I sent you to get?" he asked. "Did you learn of planet's location and codes to bypass defences. Loss of servants and foolish humans I can forgive, but failure of job I can not." 

"It was impossible," Aragon replied arrogantly, confident in his abilities. "She had some sort of mental shield, I couldn't get through." 

"You said you were a good telepath," j'Nialth said. "Tell me now why I should allow you to live after you have failed me." 

"I do not need to prove myself to you," Aragon replied. "If I couldn't read her mind, then it can't be done." 

J'Nialth looked over at Lynx. "Kill him," he said. 

"Stop!" Aragon almost shouted, looking intently at Lynx, whose eyes suddenly widened when he found he couldn't move the hand which was attempting to draw his knife. "You forget who I am," he smiled. "I am the most powerful telepath my race has seen in nearly thirty years, a single human is not going to injure me." 

"Release him," j'Nialth said calmly, pulling a small Thrakallan energy weapon out from beneath the table and pointing it at the Centauri. The tip of the two-pronged device glowed brightly, and a tiny targeting laser was pinpointing the centre of Aragon's chest. "Or I will injure you." 

Aragon quickly extended his abilities to include j'Nialth, but to his horror found he couldn't effect the completely alien pathways of Thrakallan's mind. He pushed harder, trying to break past the thick fog that seemed to cloud j'Nialth's mind, but soon realised that he was defeated. Holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he released his hold on Lynx and took a step backwards. Lynx finished drawing his knife and lunged across the room, pressing the weapon up against the telepath's throat. "Any last words," he asked. 

Aragon glanced around, looking for a way to escape, but the bulky shape of the last of the Bilubi bodyguards could be seen just behind the bead curtain which led to the only exit. Then his mind gasped a tiny straw of hope. "Wait!" he cried again. As Lynx glanced over at his master, he continued. "I might still be able to find out what you want." 

"Explain," j'Nialth demanded, waving a claw towards Lynx, who lowered his blade and returned it to its sheath. 

Aragon wiped his brow with a silken handkerchief, and tried to restore a bit of dignity before speaking. "There is something I can try," he told the Thrakallan. "It is beyond most telepaths, but something that I have done in the past, usually only at the scene of an event of great emotion, such as a murder." He pointed to the diamonds that lay forgotten on the table. "Every time you touch something you leave behind a minute trace of yourself, a psychic shadow of past events that can be detected on occasion. Usually the image only lasts a few seconds, but certain gems, especially those of exceptional purity, can hold images longer and I may still be able to detect something from those stones. I will have to examine them now though, any further delay will only cause the images to dissipate." 

"I don't trust him, Boss," Lynx said, almost pacing about the room in his eagerness to finish carrying out the Centauri's death sentence. 

J'Nialth didn't reply to Lynx, instead he stared into Aragon's eyes for several long seconds and then pushed the diamonds across the table. "Examine then," he said. "But, be warned. I will not accept failure for a second time." 

Aragon nodded nervously and took a seat opposite the Thrakallan, picking up the gems and running his fingers over their surface. "I need quiet," he said softly, closing his eyes. "Noise will distract me and will make this more difficult than it already is. Do not speak until I am finished." 

Lynx's eyes narrowed, and for a moment he seemed about to say something, but instead he just walked quietly around behind j'Nialth and stood and watched as the telepath began his examination of the stones. 

"I can see the fight in the corridor," Aragon began. "That is strongest because of the emotions of battle. I see.... these stones were kept with others, many others." Aragon appeared to frown then, his brow furrowing as if he was concentrating on something buried deep inside the gem stone. "This human woman, her psychic shadow is particularly strong. I should not be able to see this. I did not think she was a telepath, but this strength to too great for one lacking psionic powers. Perhaps there is something deeper I am not seeing." 

"What do...." Lynx began, before remembering that he was supposed be quiet. 

Aragon shivered slightly and opening his hand, dropped two of the gems onto the table. Then clutching the remaining stone, he continued probing its surface. "This stone has seen more than the others. It is older, so much older. I can see..." suddenly his eyes shot open and he dropped the stone, as if it had burnt his fingers. 

"What did you see?" j'Nialth demanded. 

"Something very powerful," Aragon replied, shaking his head to clear it. "This stone has been touched by a telepathic being of incredible power." 

"Human female?" 

"No," Aragon said firmly. "Not her. There was something else, lurking in the background. A powerful telepathic being that has touched this stone recently. Its power was great enough to leave a lasting impression, the psychic image is burnt into the stone, almost a permanent part of it." 

"How does that help us," Lynx sneered. "Who cares what happened in the past, it is the future we are concern with. Unless this being you speak of can tell us where to find this Jeanne's gem mine." 

"I don't know about any mine," Aragon said, ignoring Lynx and speaking only to j'Nialth, who gestured for him to continue. "But wherever this stone is kept, it has thousands of cousins with it. When the being I saw touched the stone, the gem was in a great chest, filled to the brim with stones like this." 

"So?" Lynx pressed. "It could have been anywhere. Unless these stones are here now, then none of this is important." 

"But I think they are here," Aragon told him. "The creature that touched them. I didn't see its shape, but it was carrying the chest of gem stones into a small vessel." He carefully projected an image of the small vessel into j'Nialth's mind, hoping that it was a lot easier to send thoughts to the Thrakallan that it was to read them. 

"Human female's shuttle," j'Nialth replied. "I saw it earlier. It is docked in cargo bay six." 

"Then lets go and take a look inside," Lynx suggested. 

J'Nialth held up a claw to prevent him moving. "It is defended. While you were away, I learned that shuttle attacked a security team. However, human female may have a key that bypasses defences." Then he stopped and glanced over at Aragon. "Wait outside," he told the telepath, waving a dismissive claw towards the beaded curtain that separated his office from the jewellery store. Then, before the Aragon had even moved, he called the Centauri back. "And do not steal," j'Nialth warned him. "Location of all jewellery is known to me." 

"I am a Centauri noble," Aragon said haughtily, his confidence now restored somewhat. "I'm not some lowly thief, and I do not need to steal." 

"Good," j'Nialth said, waving for the telepath to leave again. Aragon frowned and appeared ready to argue, but instead he gave a shallow bow and retreated from the room. 

"What do you want me to do, Boss?" Lynx asked, as soon as Aragon had departed. 

"We need heavier weapons," j'Nialth replied. "Visit our contacts and see what they have to sell." 

"Why? We have a load of those Narn military rifles and a stack of fusion charges stashed in the fuel tanks of that old shuttle in bay 12. You know, the cargo we are sending to those rogue telepaths on Mars. We could use them instead." 

"Telepaths are dangerous, as Centauri has proven," j'Nialth said. "I do not want trouble if we can not deliver on time. Anyway, we need more powerful weapons." 

"We don't need a lot," Lynx argued. "Four of the larger rifles and a few explosives should be enough." 

J'Nialth looked at his suspiciously. "You said servant's weapons were no good. Why should Narn weapons be better?" 

"The rifles aren't important. If you send me after this woman again, I don't intend of fighting up close," Lynx explained. "We just need them in case we run into security. I was thinking of using the charges to blow a hole in the station and suck this woman out into space. I have a couple of EVA suits in my quarters, a keepsake from my days in Earthforce. All we need to do is find out where she is, then set an ambush, blow her out into space, and then collect what we need from her frozen corpse." 

"This will work?" 

"It should," Lynx replied confidently. "I'm going to need some assistance though. One person in the second EVA suit — a human or being of similar dimensions. Two more to help with the ambush, lay the charges and to watch while we retrieve the gems and look for the key, or whatever she uses as an opening mechanism. I can use the last of the Bilubi as a guard, but I need two others." 

J'Nialth turned and pointed towards the door. "There is Centauri," he suggested. 

Lynx shook his head, looking less than happy about the idea of working with Aragon again. "I'm not sure I can trust him. Beside I don't think he is really cut out for this kind of job. I'll hire a couple of head-kickers from down below, someone expendable." 

J'Nialth appeared to consider this for a few seconds, before shaking his head. "No," he said firmly. "Not needed. I have someone else in mind." When Lynx looked surprised, the Thrakallan picked up a small box of data crystals from a shelf, selected one of the crystals, and then handed it over to his lieutenant. "Take this to Cheytok and tell him that unless he supplies us with two new servants, we will release this to security." 

"The Drazi diplomat we did that job for last month?" Lynx asked, turning the crystal over in his hands. "What does he have to do with this?" 

"He needs to be put in his place," j'Nialth replied. "He is upset about the contract we performed and dares to argue. He thinks that we can control Drazi government and is angry he was not chosen as new aide. He threatened me, so he must be punished. Take this crystal and show him what will happen to him if he does not help me now." 

"What's on it?" 

"It is image of him putting poison we sold in his superior's food. It also contains information on poison, so security can find it in dead Drazi's body." 

"I didn't know we had anything like this." 

"That is why you are lieutenant," j'Nialth said. "Now go, and take Centauri with you in case Cheytok argues." 

"I don't need that fool's help," Lynx said, glancing over at the curtain that blocked the door into the store. 

"Take him," j'Nialth order. "Do not take him on job, but he will be useful against Cheytok. With Drazi, you must always show greater power and with a Centauri telepath working for you, Cheytok will be more accepting of my demands." 

"All right," Lynx snapped. "I'll take him. But I'm sending him back here as soon as I have the Drazi's agreement. I don't want to spend any longer in that Centauri's company than I need to."  

Without waiting for further instructions from his boss, Lynx wheeled about and stormed out the room. J'Nialth watched him leave, his insectoid face as impassive as ever, although anyone who was familiar with the Thrakallan race would have been able to recognise the faint signs of annoyance he was showing. As soon as his lieutenant left, j'Nialth carefully switched off his stun weapon and returned it to the hidden holster beneath the table. Then he picked up the diamond Aragon had dropped and slowly turned it around, watching the reflections of the lights in its perfectly cut facets. 

 

 

The airlock from Red 8 into Green Sector was one of the least guarded entrances into the ambassadorial wing. Beyond the airlock were the quarters of those ambassadors who required alternative atmospheres from the Earth norm. Each ambassador had a pass card to enter the airlock, and they could provide temporary clearance to any visitors, but the general public were not permitted to enter. But to anyone who possessed a code slicer as advanced as the latest Thrakallan model, there were few portals that could not be bypassed. 

Kneeling next to the airlock, Jeanne removed the surprisingly heavy device from its case and placed it onto the security panel, four tiny pincers on the slicer digging into the metal to secure it in place. Once it was in place, the device extended a delicate looking probe into the security panel. A moment later there was a spark from the panel and the airlock spun around to allow Jeanne to enter. Packing up the code slicer and slipping the case into her pocket, she hurried into the airlock, pressing the control to begin the process of changing the atmosphere inside to match the one in the corridors beyond. 

Once the airlock had finished its cycle and now opened into Green Sector, Jeanne looked carefully around to ensure that no-one had noticed her method of bypassing the airlock's security system. Then she walked quickly towards her destination, a door only a short distance down the corridor, its closeness to the airlock an indication of the former occupant's importance. Then, just as she had thought that she would be able to make it to her destination unseen, two Gaim suddenly stepped out of a nearby door, almost surprising her. She stepped aside and waited quietly, trying to appear as innocent as possible. She knew that if they were aware of her destination then security would also soon know and she needed some time to complete what she came here to do. 

The Gaim regarded her curiously as they passed, no doubt wondering what a human was doing wandering the alien sector without a breather mask. But apparently such occurrences were not unknown, because the Gaim spared only a short glance in Jeanne's direction before departing. As soon as they were out of sight, Jeanne spun around and began to examine the door behind her. A large yellow sign had been posted on the door, warning all who passed that the quarters beyond had been sealed by security. Jeanne ignore the sign, not even bothering to read the words of the warning. Instead she turned her attention to the lock. 

Unlike the panel on the airlock, this door had been sealed with a lock that was considerably more complex and advanced. Obviously security did not want anyone gaining access to these quarters, but if her mission was to succeed, that was exactly what Jeanne had to do. Realising it was now time to see if the Thrakallan's device was worth the price she paid for it — both the monetary price, and the pain she felt over what had happened earlier in that dimly lit corridor in Grey Sector. 

Removing the code slicer from it case again, Jeanne fitted it to the door lock and then waited nervously as it began to crack the security code. It took the device nearly three minutes before it at last broke the hideously complex code and the lock clicked open. During that time, Jeanne waited impatiently, constantly glancing down the corridor as if expect someone to appear out of the thick mists and catch her in the act. But no-one ever did, and quickly packing away the device, she opened the door and slipped inside. 

Inside, she looked carefully around the room, as if expecting its former occupant to suddenly appear out of the mist, its encounter suit looming above her as it pronounced her sentence for daring to defy the Vorlon Empire again. But the room remained quiet, although Jeanne could still feel the presence of the two Vorlons who had dwelled here, the living quarters still holding distant memories of their time here. 

Closing the door behind her, she looked around for the object for which she had travelled nearly a hundred light years. The room was remarkably Spartan, especially compared to some of the other parts of the station she had seen. Jeanne knew that Vorlons believed that unnecessary possessions distracted from the pursuit of truth... well, their truth anyway. She had felt the same way once, or perhaps they had told her to think that way. Not that it really mattered now, the item she searched for was all that mattered... that, and her self-appointed quest. 

She soon found it, hanging in the air near the rear of the large entrance room, a room that would have been used as a lounge room had these quarters belonged to a human, but was just empty space here. The Vorlon viewscreen looked untouched by the passage of time. It had only been two years since the last Vorlon to occupy these quarters had used it, but Jeanne had thought that someone might have removed it by now. But then, no-one else would know of its value. The other races might see it as little more than what it appeared, a viewscreen used to display incoming messages and replay recorded information. 

But it was so much more that a simple recording device. The information it stored was valuable beyond measure, information that most beings would sell their own parents into slavery to possess, although the Thrakallans might find that a little difficult, as that was usually the first thing they did when their parents aged and became slow and less careful. Of course to understand the information, the reader would need to understand the Vorlon language, and not just Low Vorlon, the written language that they used around lesser races, but High Vorlon, the spoken tongue that had no written equivalent. 

Running her index finger along one edge of the viewscreen, Jeanne watched as the device switched on, the greenish-black metal of the screen fading to show a line of Vorlon symbols. "Perfect," she murmured to herself, tapping one symbol with her finger. "It's here, the key I have been looking for." 

She glanced around the room, as a triumphant smile spreading across her face. "You can't stop me now," she told the empty room. "I've found it, and now I'll be free at last. All that you worked for will be lost and a new order will reign in this galaxy, my order!" 


	5. Chapter 5

ACT FOUR

 

Zack awoke to find a bright light shining directly into his eyes. For a moment he thought he must have been dead... or dreaming. But, then he blinked and his vision cleared, allowing him to see the familiar surroundings of Medlab 1, as well as the equally familiar face of Dr. Lillian Hobbs. "How are you feeling, Mr. Allan?" the doctor asked, removing the light and looking at Zack with a concerned expression on her face. 

"I've been better," Zack replied, his voice little more than a dry whisper. "What happened?" 

"You were poisoned," the doctor replied, handing him a glass of water. "Some sort of paralysing venom. Do you remember being hit by a tranq dart?" 

Zack sipped the water, and then frowned, sorting through his hazy memory in an attempt to remember what had happened before he had lost consciousness. "I remember that woman," he said finally. "The one we suspected was a smuggler. She pulled a weapon of some sort and shot me. Is that what you mean?" 

"I think so," Lillian replied, running a scanner over Zack and then passing the instrument to one of her assistants. "We took the projectile out of your shoulder and I've have managed to concoct an antidote for the chemical it injected into your system." 

"How long before I can get out of here?" Zack asked, trying to pull himself up into a sitting position. "I have work to do." For a moment he succeeded in sitting up before a wave of dizziness washed over him and he collapsed back onto the bed. 

"You will be out of here sooner if you sit quietly and let us do our work," Lillian replied. "The antidote seems to be working quiet well, and if the projections pan out, you should be able to walk out of here in about an hour." 

"What was the chemical she used?" Zack asked. 

"An organic compound of some sort. I checked it against the database, but it doesn't match anything we have on record. However, once we had a sample it didn't take long to create an antidote, although I don't think the effects were meant to be permanent anyway. It would have worn off in about twenty-four hours time. 

"Did..." Zack began, only to be interrupted by the sudden arrival of an emergency medical team, bringing with them the unconscious bodies of four beings, two human and two creatures Zack quickly recognised as Bilubi, the dim-witted, but very loyal servants of the Thrakallan race. Suddenly interested, he sat up, this time managing to fight off the wave of dizziness that threatened to swamp him. 

As Lillian and the other doctors set to work treating the new patients, Zack examined each carefully from his bed. He quickly realised that only three of the four were unconscious. The forth, a strangely familiar human, was at least semi-conscious, moaning softly and rubbing his jaw as if in pain. Two of the doctors were attending to him, while the rest of the medical staff, led by Dr. Hobbs, were inspecting the other three new admissions. Intrigued, Zack swung his legs over the side of the bed and was just about to attempt to stand, when a familiar voice pulled him up.  

"I think you are supposed to be resting in bed, aren't you, Mr. Allan?" Captain Lochley asked, as she strode into the room, closely followed by a gaggle of security officers and two more medical personal. She paused to take in the busy scene and then glanced over at doctors working on one of the Bilubi. Deciding not to interrupt Lillian, she walked over to Zack's bed. 

"What's all this?" Zack asked, indicating the unconscious forms lying on their trolleys, as well as the security team. 

"There was some trouble down in Grey Sector," Lochley replied. "Some thugs decided to have a shoot out. We didn't arrive in time to stop them hurting each other, but it looks like no-one was killed this time." 

"Damn," Zack said, only half-jokingly. 

A flicker of a smile crossed Lochley's face only to vanish as she remembered something. "We did find something strange at the crime scene though." 

One of the medical team who had entered with her — a short, dark-haired man Zack recognised as one of the med-techs who worked closely with his security teams — pulled a phial of a glowing, pale liquid from his pocket and handed it to Zack. "We found a fair amount of this substance splashed across the deck near were we found the others. I think it is some sort of alien blood, although from what species, I don't know. My scanner didn't seemed to register it properly. One moment it was saying it was human blood and then the next it said it was an unrecognised compound. Any ideas, Chief?" 

"Beats me," Zack shrugged, turning the phial over in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dr. Hobbs approaching, so he turned and asked, "How about you doctor? Do you know what this is?" 

Lillian took the phial and then examined it with her scanner for several seconds. "Interesting," she mused, handing the phial back to the med-tech. "Take this down to Medlab 3," she told him. "Dr. Matsuki should be on duty by now. Get him to look at this and tell him I want the results as quickly as possible." As the med-tech departed, she turned to Lochley and Zack. "I think I've found something you might find interesting." 

"What is it?" Lochley asked, following Lillian across the room to where two other doctors were working on one of the Bilubi. 

"These creatures, whatever they are..." 

"Bilubi," Zack cut in. He was being supported by two of the security team as he walked unsteadily after the two women. "I don't know a lot about them, but they came aboard with that Thrakallan merchant j'Nialth. From what I've heard they are a minor race  from one of the moons around the gas giant Beta Lyrae II." 

"Bilubi," Lillian said, nodding. "I've heard of them, but I don't think we have ever had one in her to examine before. I'll have to forward the results to Dr. Franklin, he might be interested." Then she frowned. "Anyway, their race isn't important, just the weapon they were wounded with. It seems they were struck with the same tranq darts that Mr. Allan was." 

"Look's like someone has been busy," Zack commented. 

"Do you think this Jeanne Darias was responsible for this mess as well?" Lochley asked. "If she was a tech-runner or smuggler then she could have met with her contact here on the station and then things must have turned nasty." 

"I don't know," Zack admitted. "The pattern would fit, but when I spoke to her, she didn't seem the type who would be involved in any kind of criminal activity. Of course, I didn't think she would be the type who would go around shooting security chiefs either." He paused to scratch the back of his hand, only to frown suddenly. "Where's my link!" he demanded. Then he slapped a hand to the empty holster at his side. "And where the hell has my PPG gone!" 

"Your PPG was missing when we found you," Lochley replied. "And your link was smashed. I sent one of your officers, Aldred I think her name was, off to encode a replacement." 

"What was the serial number on your weapon, Chief?" one of the security officers suddenly asked, pulling a PPG pistol out of a box he was carrying." 

"XC153... um D345," Zack replied. 

"XC153D245," the officer replied, handing over the weapon. "It looks like this is yours then. We found it lying on the deck near one of the victims." He pointed to the dark-haired man who lay unconscious on one of the stretchers. "I think it was him." 

"Who is he?" Zack asked, examining the pistol for any signs of damage, before sliding it back into his holster. 

The security officer searched around in the box and pulled out an identicard. He quickly examined the card and then handed it over to Zack. "According to this, his name is Alex Kurmis and he works as a consultant for IPX." 

Zack briefly examined the identicard and then handed it over to Lochley. "Looks real enough," he said. "I won't know for sure until I run a full background check."  

"Why don't I do that," she offered. "Unless ambassador Vizhak decides to turn up in my office to make another complaint, I should be free for the next two hours. Besides, it looks like you might have your hands full with this case... if you sure you are well enough to take it on." 

"I'm fine," Zack told her. "The effects of the drug seem to be wearing off, at least that's what the Doc told me." 

Lochley tapped the identicard against her hand and glanced over at Dr. Hobbs, who had returned to her work. "Very well, Mr. Allan," she said finally. "If you think you are up to it, I'll let you get back to work. I'll check back with you in two hours." She then turned, and with a final glance over in the direction of the four stretchers, left the room. 

"All right," Zack said as soon as the Captain had left. "Lets get to work on this. Emilie, take everyone but Chappel and Wellman and head down to Security Central and organise a search of the station. I want this woman found before anyone else is hurt. Check the security logs from customs and distribute her image to the various shopkeepers, someone must have seen her. Chappel, find Aldred and get my new link back here as quickly as possible. Until then, route all communications through Wellman here." 

As everyone hurried to carry out his orders, Zack turned to Wellman, who was still holding the heavy looking box of evidence he had collected from grey 19. "Anything else in that box?" he asked. 

Wellman nodded. "Quite a lot, Chief," he replied, placing it down on a table and sorting through the contents. We have two energy weapons of an unknown make, some personal effects I collected from the victims and this..." He pulled out a heavy pistol that he handed over Zack. I found this lying underneath a storage tank." 

"Very nasty," Zack replied, taking the pistol and examining it closely. "Definitely not the sort of thing I want to see being used on a space station. Any idea where it came from?" 

"I checked. It seems someone brought it onto the station, apparently to sell to a Centauri dealer or something like that. The permits must have been in order because it made it past customs. I don't know how it ended up in Grey Sector though." 

"I must have belonged to one of these four then," Zack replied. "Did you collect their identicards?" 

Wellman nodded, pulling three more slim plastic cards out of the evidence box. "I thought I would collect them so they weren't able to slip off the station." 

"Good idea," Zack replied, quickly scanning the three cards. "Well these don't tell me much," he said, handing the two Bilubi ones back to Wellman. "Hmm, Brian Nash, never heard of him." He looked over at the forth victim again, noticing that he was now sitting up, holding a pad of some sort to his jaw while he talked to one of the doctors. "Strange, I thought he looked familiar, but I don't recognise the name." 

"Perhaps we should ask Mr. Nash some questions." 

"Good idea," Zack said with a grim smile. "It's time someone gave me some answers. I don't like being shot at." He walked quickly over to where Dr. Hobbs worked on one of the Bilubi. "Doctor, is Mr. Nash ready to be interviewed?" 

"He should be," Lillian replied, not looking up from her work. "He only had a bruised jaw and can leave as soon as I've given him the once over just to be sure." 

"Thanks, Doc," Zack replied, walking over to the stretcher where the suspect lay. "All right, Mr. Nash," he said. "I think it is time you answered some questions." When Nash didn't reply, Zack said, "Mr. Nash?" This time the man looked up, and Zack was again struck by a feeling of familiarity about the rugged features of the suspect. "Can you come with us please." 

"I'm sorry," Nash replied. "That isn't possible. I have important business to take care of." 

"Yes you do," Zack said. "You have to tell me exactly what you have been up to today. I have been shot at, poisoned, and now I have four rather disreputable looking characters turn up in Medlab, apparently attacked by the same person who shot me. I think you can see why I might be interested in your activities, especially as you seem to be the only lead I have at the moment." 

"Ah, I see." Nash seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he reached into his suit and pulled out an identicard. "Perhaps this will explain some things," he said, handing it over to Zack. 

Zack took the card and glanced at the information it displayed. "You're Nicolai Luchenko?" he said in surprise, before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I thought you looked familiar," he said. "I hope you have a good reason for travelling under a false name."   

"I rarely travel under my own name. I prefer to avoid the attention of the media if I can... although I doubt you would understand." 

"I understand that you are here under a false name," Zack replied. "That, and the fact that you seem to be involved with a smuggler and several less than reputable aliens." 

"A smuggler?" Nicolai frowned. "I don't have anything to do with smugglers, or any other criminals for that matter." 

"The woman you met in Grey 19," Zack replied. "The one who arrived here this morning, which by some amazing coincidence was only an hour or two before you yourself arrived on the station. I don't believe in coincidences like that, so perhaps you would like to tell why you were meeting with her." 

"She is no smuggler," Nicolai informed him, with an almost relieved expression on his face, as if he had been expecting Zack to accuse him of some other crime. "And, as for the nature of our meeting, that must remain confidential. It was personal and you don't need to get involved." 

"When people start using slug throwers on this station it becomes my business. Don't you realise that the slugs those things fire can cut right through the hull." 

"You have no proof I used any weapon at all." 

"We will soon see about that," Zack said. "I happen to know a thing or two about archaic weapons like the pistol we discovered near you. Most older slug throwers require a chemical propellant, and every time they are used, they leave behind traces of the chemicals on the skin of their users. I wonder what we will find if I have your hands examined by one of the doctors here." 

 A flash of what looked almost like fear crossed Nicolai's face. "I don't think my aunt will be happy to learn I am being treated this way," he said. "I demand you allow me to leave at once! I am the victim of a cruel attack and you are treating me like criminal." 

"I was wondering when we were going to get to that," Zack muttered to himself. Then, turning directly to Nicolai, he quickly countered with, "as soon as you answer my questions. Why are you on the station? And why were you meeting Jeanne Darias in Grey 19?" 

"It is quite simple" Nicolai replied. "She was the representative for a Centauri noble who was buying that old gun of mine. However, as we were meeting, we were ambushed by these creatures." he pointed to the two Bilubi who still lay on their stretchers, their snores reverberating around the room. "They obviously wanted something, but I did not discover what as I was knocked unconscious by someone and didn't see the rest of the conflict." 

"How convenient," Zack said. 

"It happens to be the truth," Nicolai replied angrily. "If you don't believe me you can check with my bodyguard when he wakes up. In the meantime I would like to speak to my lawyer... as well as my aunt. I think she may have a few words to say about the way I have been treated here." 

"I hope that isn't a threat," Zack said, his voice low and dangerous. "Just remember that I work for the Interstellar Alliance, not for Earth." 

"I'm still an Earth citizen, and a very important one might I remind you," Nicolai replied with an indignant snort. "I do happen to be the nephew of Earth's current president, so you get your Captain Lochley on the link and tell her to contact my aunt. I don't think your President Sheridan will want to start an incident over something as minor as this. After all, no-one was hurt and I am the one who was wronged here." 

Zack sighed and walked over to where Wellman waited. "Get hold of the Captain for me," he told the junior officer, then paced impatiently as Wellman patched a call through the Lochley's office. As soon as the Captain had answered, Zack leaned forward and said. "Captain, you're not going to like this. It looks like we have another problem." 

 

 

Jeanne stood quietly next to the viewscreen, waiting patiently for the code slicer to complete its latest task. Already, the efficient little Thrakallan device had broken through four layers of encoding and was now working on the final encryption sequence, the last barrier between Jeanne and her goal. Of course, without her input, the device would have been next to useless. It could not understand the Vorlon languages, but it could understand mathematical problems, which was still all that the encryption codes were — although hideously more advanced against what mathematicians in the Earth Alliance could currently comprehend. 

As she waited, Jeanne's eyes wandered slowly around the room. She noticed the thin green mist that curled in the corners and watched it drift about the room for several minutes, wondering why the Vorlons, a race that were seen rarely without an encounter suit, would have need of an alternate atmosphere, especially as they no longer really required an atmosphere at all. Their race had developed far beyond the boundaries of mere physical existence. She shrugged, deciding it wasn't worth troubling herself over. Obviously the Vorlon who had lived here had sought to distance himself from the other races and the alien atmosphere was just another way of doing that. 

In a way, she was now doing that same thing, hiding the strength the Vorlons had given her. Had she so desired, she could have simply walked onto the station, destroyed those who opposed her and then taken the information she required. But, as tempting as that might be after the day's events, Jeanne knew she could never consider behaving that way. In a way, she was still the same person she was when the Vorlons had first taken her, and knew that mindless violence was never the solution. That was the way of chaos, the way of the Shadows and those like them. Although she had long ago broken away from her Vorlon masters, quite violently in the end, she could never turn to the ways of chaos. But then, she could not support the Vorlon way either. Rigid adherence to a single path was not her way. Life was never so simple. 

She sighed, silently reprimanding herself for still worrying about what was now ancient history. She had left the Vorlons centuries ago, although they had not taken that well, imprisoning her on an isolated jungle moon on the edge of their territory. But none of that mattered now, they were gone and she was free and soon all others who had served the Vorlons involuntarily would also be free. Providing she could break through the layers of encoding the Vorlon had wrapped around his data files. 

After glaring impatiently at the code slicer, she began to pace around the room, searching the dark corners for anything that might assist her. But there was nothing, the Vorlon who had lived had obviously not believed in furniture, not that it would have needed any. Sighing again, she walked back to the viewscreen, watching the endless lines of numbers play across the code slicer's display screen. 

Finally, nearly ten minutes later, the slicer stopped, chirping once to signal its completion of the task she had set it. Eagerly, she hurried forward to examine the viewscreen. She soon saw that the Thrakallan machine was correct, the final layer of encoding was gone and now she had access to the core programming of the viewscreen, including the password required to access the files stored in its database. Quickly she tapped a command into the slicer's controller, and the device soon replied with a single word. 

It was a Vorlon word, if she recalled her training correctly, the word referred to an ancient battle between the Vorlon fleet and the Talquitsi Empire. The Talquitsi were a xenophobic species who lived somewhere in the core worlds, perfect fodder for manipulation by the Shadows. It had been a long time ago, but the Vorlon had still taught her of its importance. Learning the folly of blind hatred had been an important lesson during the decades she had been a servant of the Vorlons. Thinking back again, Jeanne thought it was a great sadness that the Vorlons did not learn from their own lessons. In her opinion, blind obedience to any cause was foolish, no matter how noble the reasons might be. 

However, that was in the past. Right now, she was moment away from her goal, although the hardest task still remained. Although she now had the password required to activate the viewscreen, she still had to feed it into the device and that was no easy task. Removing the code slicer, she placed it back in the right hand pocket of her somewhat tattered coat. Then she reached up and brushed her fingers across the metallic surface of the circuit she wore, pressing against an almost hidden control. There was a faint tingling sensation in her fingertips, which quickly faded as the circuit deactivated itself. Jeanne lowered her hand and then took a series of deep breaths to steel herself for what she was about to do. Finally ready to begin, she reached out and gripped the viewer in both hands. 

Almost immediately, she grimaced, as the living machine's almost sentient systems reached out and touched her mind with a painfully strong probe. Gritting her teeth against the painful throbbing that erupted in her mind, Jeanne concentrated solely on the password, attempting to drive all other thoughts from her mind and think only about that single, ancient Vorlon symbol. To a Vorlon, sending the password would take less than a second. A Vorlon would merely need to speak the word and the viewscreen would grant it access, but for a non-telepathic human, who lacked the necessary physical characteristics to speak true Vorlon — at least not without a very advanced translator, which Jeanne didn't currently possess —  it was considerably more difficult. 

Somehow, she managed it though, and the screen flashed as it recognised the password. Letting go of the device, Jeanne gasped and took several long, deep breaths to calm herself. Then, she reached into a pocket and withdrew a single data crystal, placing it into the reader, before turning back to examine the information the viewscreen had retrieved. 

Thousands of lines of symbols raced across the screen, as the device listed every file that had been stored in its memory. Jeanne's eyes flickered from symbol to symbol as she attempted to sort the everyday files from the more important data that she sought. She knew that a single data crystal could not hold all the information, even a whole crate of data crystals would not be enough. Their storage capacity could not hope to compare to the semi-organic matrix that formed the core of the viewscreen.  

Quickly she discarded several files, transcripts of meeting between the ambassador and several visitors, reports on alien governments that were outdated and  meaningless now. There was even a few personal files, messages between the former ambassador and friends back on Vorlon. Finally, she spotted what she was looking for, a single seemingly innocuous file that lay near the end of list. 

Downloading the file, she allowed a small smile of triumph to spread across her face. Despite everything that had stood in her way over the years, she now had what she had sought for so long... access codes for the Vorlon homeworld. Of course, no Vorlon was so stupid as to leave the codes for deactivating their defence grid lying around in their quarters. Such codes would only be passed on telepathically from Vorlon to Vorlon. However, to travel back to their homeworld, each Vorlon vessel was required to transmit a signal on a certain wavelength, to identify themselves to the huge defence platforms that still protected the important Vorlon worlds. This signal was long, difficult to remember and also changed occasionally just to be certain that no enemy could sneak into a key star system. During her painful apprenticeship at the side of her Vorlon masters, Jeanne had learned that even the Vorlons could not remember such a difficult code-string, so they kept the access codes stored somewhere for latter use. This Kosh had behaved the same way and now that she had the file, she had access to Vorlon itself. 

She silently thanked the Vorlons for underestimating her yet again. During her long life she had been many things to the Vorlons, first their servant and then later their enemy, but now she would be the destroyer of their legacy. With the assistance of her allies, the ancient secrets of the Vorlons would be hers to wield. Before she could think further on her plans, the viewscreen emitted a whispering song, a signal to inform her the file had been downloaded. Removing the data crystal she placed it carefully in an inside pocket in her coat, the same pocket that still held the fortune in gem stones she had bought with her from her former prison. 

Then, with one last look around the barren room, she slipped out of the door, tapping the command to shut it as she left. For a moment, she paused near the entrance, examining the security seal she had removed. Finally, she just left it as it was. With the information now in her possession, she didn't see the need to waste time reactivating the security seal. Then she was gone, almost running down the corridor towards the airlock. 

 

 

Nicolai slowly buttoned up his shirt, enjoying the fierce scowl on Zack's face. "Sorry to run out on you like this Mr. Allan, but I'm needed elsewhere. I'm sure you understand. Now, if I can just have my property back, I will take my leave." 

"I'm afraid not," a voice interrupted him. Walking in the door, Captain Lochley wore an expression torn between anger and amusement. She turned to Zack. "Have Mr. Luchenko taken to a cell. It appears that he is going to be our guest for some time." 

"What are you talking about," Nicolai demanded. "Didn't you speak to my aunt?" 

"I had quite an interesting conversation indeed," the Captain replied. "Do you want to hear her exact words, or would you like the censored version? She had some rather colourful things to say about you, and I'm afraid they weren't very complementary." 

"I... I don't understand," Nicolai said. "She's my aunt, she's supposed to support me." 

"I think the president may have become a little tired of your recent activities," Lochley told him. "At least that was the impression I received. She certainly didn't seem interested in helping you out of your current situation." She turned to Zack. "Mr. Allan, do you think you can arrange a cell for Mr. Luchenko?" 

"I think we can find something suitable," Zack replied with a smile. 

"You can't do this," Nicolai said angrily. "I haven't done anything wrong." 

"Let's see," Zack said, waving for Wellman to approach. "Using a fake identicard, bringing a dangerous weapon onto the station, using the weapon, probably assault as well... and, well, any one of a hundred other charges I can come up with."

The fire in Nicolai's eyes seemed to die a little as he realised he wasn't going to be able to rely on his family name this time. He glanced in Lochley's direction, but saw no hope of escape in her steely gaze. Finally, he sighed. "All right, Mr. Allan. A cell it is, but I have friends who aren't going to allow me remain there for long."

"Take him way," Zack ordered Wellman. "Oh, and give him the special cell, you know the one next to those two Narn we picked up yesterday for trying to incite a riot."

Wellman frowned, trying to work out what the Chief meant, but then something seemed to click and he grinned broadly. "The one next to the opera singers, right Chief." He grabbed Nicolai by the arm and guided him towards the door. "I think you will fit in just right next to them, Sir. You can experience wonderful alien culture while you eat. Oh, and while you sleep, and most of the rest of the day. They do seem to enjoy their singing, something about not stopping until they are released."

"Isn't that a little cruel, Mr. Allan," Lochley said as soon as Nicolai and Wellman had departed.

"No more than he deserves," Zack replied. "The smug bastard has spent the past half hour telling me about how he is going to ensure my career is over and how I'll never work again. I'm sure glad the president saw things our way. Anyway, I have to let the Narns go tomorrow. They are just spending a couple of nights in the brig on public nuisance charges." He grinned as he remembered the incident. "Singing about the glories of the Narn military in a popular Centauri bar isn't the way to win a lot of friends."

Lochley smiled. "I think the president would approve," she told Zack. "She appeared very keen to see him locked up when we spoke. He is the son of her older brother and has been a constant annoyance to her, using her status to further his ambitions. President Luchenko told me in no uncertain terms what I can do with her errant nephew. She didn't know why he was here, but when I mentioned who he was meeting, she did tell me something interesting."

"What was that?" Zack asked eagerly. "Something we can use to wrap up this case I hope."

"Not exactly," Lochley replied. "She was more than a little surprised when I mention the woman's name. Then she told me that we were to do everything possible to arrest this Jeanne Darias and deport her back to Earth. She wouldn't tell me why though, just that it was a matter of internal Earth Alliance security."

"Which either means that it is something that they desperately want to cover up, or something that they really want to get their hands on, usually some alien technology that Earth can't buy through normal channels."

"Don't you think you are being a little cynical."

Zack shrugged. "Probably. But, every time I've heard that line, it is always something like that. If I was going to guess though, I would say it was the latter."

"Why?"

Zack crossed to the bed where Alex Kurmis had been placed. "Our friend here is a member of IPX and if there is one things I have learned about Interplanetary Expeditions is that they are ruthless when it comes to collecting new technology to sell to their affiliated companies back on Earth. Did you find anything when you did a background check on him?"

Lochley shook her head. "Not a thing. His file has been sealed tight and even I don't have clearance. There was one interesting thing though. The file wasn't sealed by Earthforce, it was sealed by Psi-Corps."

"Telepaths!" Zack exclaimed in disgust. "I should have known they would be involved somewhere. The way things have been lately, it appears as if every problem we have on this station is caused by telepaths."

"Perhaps," Lochley said, sounding less sure. "For now though, let's concentrate on finding our suspect and putting and end to this mini-war we seem to have at the moment. Did you see the weapons we found in Grey 19?"

"I did," Zack confirmed, glancing in the direction of the evidence box, which was still sitting in the corner where Wellman had placed it, the muzzles of the two Bilubi guns poking out the top. "Which reminds me, I was going to take them down to the station house and run a check on the serial numbers. Then I am going to have a quiet word with a certain Thrakallan merchant and find out exactly what he has been up to this morning. I'm sure he will have a good alibi and there will be no way we can trace this back to him, but I want to check anyway."

Lochley nodded. "Good idea," she said. "I'll check with some of my sources in Earthdome, and see if I can find anything about why Earth wants this woman so much. How is the search going? Any luck so far?"

Zack shook his head. "There was one sighting several hours back. She bought a single data crystal from a Minbari merchant in the Zocalo, paid with a credit chit, probably the same one I saw her with. Since then, the only people who have seen her are these three here and Mr. Luchenko, and none of them seem to be talking."

"Keep on it, Mr. Allan," Lochley said as she turned to leave. "I want this matter cleared up as soon as possible. We can't have people running around shooting my security chief and getting away with it."

"I agree," Zack said, as the Captain left.

Before he could add anything else though, the slim form of Sonia Aldred ran into the room, the young officer looking slightly puffed, as if she had run all the way from the other end of the station. Breathing heavily, she handed Zack his new link. "Sorry I took so long, Chief," she managed to gasp between breaths. "It took longer than I thought to locate your records."

"That's all right, Aldred," Zack replied, pressing the link down onto the back of his hand. "There was no need to run all the way."

"Yes there was," she said. "We have had another confirmed sighting of the suspect. She was spotted by the Gaim ambassador and his aides in Green Eight. We tried to get hold of you through Wellman, but he was already half way back to the station house when he contacted him, so I decided to run down and bring your link with me."

"Green Eight!" Zack said in surprise. "But that's inside the ambassadorial wing. How the hell did she get in there?"

"I don't know," Aldred replied. "All I know is that the ambassador saw her acting suspiciously outside the former Vorlon ambassador's quarters and when he noticed her picture on the vid, he contacted us."

"How long ago was this?" Zack asked urgently, a particularly nasty suspicion beginning to form at the back of his mind.

"Well over an hour, I think."

"Oh hell!" Zack exclaimed, tapping his new link to contact his second. As he waited for a reply, he looked over a Aldred. ""Given the escalating body count associated with this woman, the ambassadorial wing is the last place I want her in!" 

 

 

The Bilubi warrior chopped his hand down hard on the back of the security officer's neck. The unfortunate man didn't even get a chance to see his assailant, falling like a stone. After checking to ensure the guard was still alive, Lynx gestured to the rest of his party. "Set up down the corridor," he told the two Drazi, both looking less than happy to be here. "Hurry up," he told them. "Or your boss will have some very difficult questions to answer, and I imagine you two will as well. I'm sure security will be interested in your role in the death of the ambassador's aide." 

"We had a deal, human," one of the Drazi sneered, fingering a long dagger he had hidden in his boot. "You will give us the crystal now or we will kill you and your master." 

Lynx smiled at them, moving his jacket slightly, so the heavy barrel of the Narn rifle was just visible. "Just do the job," he told them. "You will get your precious data crystal when we are finished." 

"We will have it now," the Drazi said stubbornly, not perturbed by the threat Lynx had implied when he had shown them the rifle he had stashed beneath his jacket. "Our honour will not permit the breaking of a deal once payment has been made." 

Lynx shrugged. "All right," he said. "But remember, if you do welsh on our deal, j'Nialth will ensure that both of you never see your homeworld ever again." He tossed the crystal to the Drazi who had spoken. "Now get to work. J'Nialth's device reports that our target is on her way, and I want to be ready." 

The Drazi caught the data crystal easily, and then with a quick flick of his wrist made it disappear somewhere about his person. With a quick glance at his companion, he picked up the heavy crate of high explosives and followed Lynx down the corridor. His companion, pulled out a cumbersome looking EVA suit from a bag he had been carrying and began to slip into the human-sized suit. Fortunately Lynx was slightly taller than the Drazi and very well built for a human, so the suit was only slightly tight around the Drazi's heavily muscled body. 

Nodding, Lynx hurried along the corridor, eventually stopping at about half the distance between the two nearest pressure doors. Pointing to the wall closest the hull, he said, "put the charges there, in the pattern I explained earlier. I only want to blow open the hull, not tear apart the whole station, so don't use too much." 

The Drazi nodded and set to work, while Lynx crossed to where the Bilubi stood. "How much longer?" he asked. 

The Bilubi held up a small scanner. "Not long," he said. "See." 

Lynx looked at the scanner, which was tracking the distinctive energy source from the code slicer. "Damn, she is nearly here. Are you sure the other corridors are sealed?" 

The Bilubi nodded. "Master say that doors are sealed," he replied. 

A faint frown creased Lynx's brow. "I hope you're right," he said. "Personally, I don't trust that hacker j'Nialth is paying to access the pressure door codes." He turned away from the Bilubi and walked over to where he had left the bag containing his own EVA suit. Quickly placing his jacket and rifle on the ground, he began to suit up, checking twice to ensure all the seals were secure and then strapping on the thruster pack that would enable him to manoeuvre outside the station. Finally, he picked up the rifle again and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't think he would need it, but he hadn't survived this long by taking chances. 

"Ready," the Drazi laying the charges called out, handing Lynx the remote for the detonator. 

"Good," Lynx said. "All right everyone, get back behind that door. We don't want to be here when the charges go off." He glanced over at the Drazi who wearing the second EVA suit and nodded in pleasure when he noticed that the suit seemed to fit correctly. Then he waved his hand in the direction of the pressure door and walked swiftly back toward it, his three companions moving even more urgently. 

"How much longer," he asked again as the Bilubi caught up with him. In response the bodyguard showed him the scanner, which now gave their target location as only two corridors over, and apparently heading in the right direction. Pleased that something was at last going to plan, Lynx waved everyone back behind the pressure door, although they needed no urging, and then slid a data card into the door lock. 

The lock beeped several times, but despite Lynx's misgivings the door slid shut, sealing tight. "Hopefully, that will hold," he said, glancing anxiously in the direction of the explosive charges. He looked at the two member of his ambush party that weren't wearing pressure suits. "Do you two want to wait back at the next door?" he asked. 

"I stay," the Bilubi mumbled, his flesh chin wobbling as he shook his head. "I am not afraid." 

The Drazi was about to say he wanted to leave, but when the Bilubi spoke, he also shook his head. "I'll stay as well," he said. 

Lynx's mouth curled into a half-smile. "Good," he said. "You two can keep an eye out for security while we are outside. I imagine they will swarm around here like months to a flame once we set off those charges. There is no-one in the immediate area, but I imagine we will have less than five minutes." He tapped the shoulder of the Drazi wearing the EVA suit. "We had better get into the air lock. "I want to be waiting outside when the charges go off." 

The Drazi nodded and they both set off for the nearest airlock, conveniently located about ten metres down the corridor. Before he entered, Lynx turned back and tossed the remote detonator to the Bilubi. "Remember, set off the charges when she has walked past them, not before. I don't want to have to pick through a bloody mess while I try to find the stones and the key for her shuttle... whatever that looks like." 

The Bilubi nodded. "I will do," he promised. 

Lynx nodded in reply and stepped into the airlock, closing it behind him. As the airlock ran through its cycle, draining the atmosphere from the room and equalising the pressure with the airless void of space, the Bilubi turned to watch the corridor where the charges had been placed. Moment later, the slight form of Jeanne appeared, hurrying down the corridor as if she was urgently needed to be somewhere. The Bilubi smiled, his face almost split in half as his broad mouth curled upwards. There was nothing he enjoyed more than a good explosion. 

By now, Jeanne had noticed that the door ahead of her was closing, just as several others had been on her trip back from Kosh's quarters. This time, she could see someone waiting behind the door, a being she recognised as similar to the two alien warrior who had attacked her earlier. Proceeding cautiously, she checked for any other Bilubi that might be waiting in ambush as she walked towards the door. For a moment she though about turning around and heading back the way she had come, but decided against that idea when she realised that this being must be responsible for the other sealed doors she had passed in the last corridor.  

Then, as she neared the sealed door, the Bilubi suddenly raised his meaty hand and pressed at something he held. Before Jeanne could react, there was the ear-splintering noise of an explosion almost directly behind her. Thrown to the ground by the explosion's concussive wave of force, she suddenly felt something tugging at her, realising too late that a hole had been torn in the side of the station and she was being pulled through it. 

With a final look in the direction of the Bilubi and his Drazi companion, a look that promised revenge should they ever meet again, Jeanne was swept out through the jagged tear in the station's hull and into the cold dark embrace of space. Almost immediately, she shut down her breathing. When the Vorlons had altered her body to make her a better soldier for their war, they had relieved her of the need for air. However, she knew that the cold of space would soon kill her. She could survive without air, and her body had been adapted to handle the pressure differences, but without heat or light, she was helpless. 

But this time luck was with her, and she found herself blinking into the harsh glare of the distant sun. The sun's rays warmed her skin, providing her with just enough light to survive. Treading helpless against the frictionless void, she began to twist around, looking for a way to escape. Instead, she spotted two human-sized figures jetting their way towards her using shoulder mounted thruster packs. 

Noting the rifle slung over the shoulder of one of the figures, Jeanne quickly realised that they meant her no good and she reached for her pistol. The two figures were approaching very quickly, so she had time for only one shot before they would be on her. Silently willing the pistol to power up — and this time wincing in pain as the weapon drained precious energy from her body's dwindling reserves — she raised the weapon and fired at the larger of the two. 

The suited figure clutched at his shoulder and then spiral out of control as his suit's pressurised atmosphere jetted into space. The second figure didn't even hesitate, unslinging his rifle and firing at close range. The powerful energy blast couldn't wound Jeanne. Her skin was designed to absorb almost all forms of energy — a legacy of her years in the hands of the Vorlons — but the stinging hit was enough to make her hand slip open, the pistol tumbling out. Desperately, she clutched for it, only to have it knocked out of the way by Lynx, with a quick swing of his rifle. Then the rifle connected with the side of her head and she felt consciousness slipping away. She should have been able to resist the effect of the blow, but on top of everything else she had been through today, it proved too much. Instinctively, she folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes, almost welcoming the cold feeling of oblivion that engulfed her. 

After hitting her again to make sure she stayed out, Lynx began rifling through her pockets, quickly retrieving the code slicer, as well as the carefully wrapped gem stones. The only other item he found were a single data crystal, a credit chit and her identicard. He put all three into the bag he had slung around his wrist and then checked again, cursing when he was unable to locate any key or other opening mechanism that might work on Jeanne's shuttle. Then, he realised he was taking too long, and pressed the control for the suit-to-suit communicator. "Lets go," he said to the Drazi. 

"Too weak..." was the only reply, and Lynx looked around to see the Drazi drifting away, still slowly spinning around in a circle. Then, he spotted four EVA suited figures suddenly appearing out of an airlock near the front of the station. Obviously, they were a rescue team, coming to check on the damage to the station. The rescue team was still minutes away, but the Drazi was already too far away to be rescued without putting Lynx's own safety in jeopardy, so he left him there, angling his own suit back towards the airlock. 

Impatiently he waited for the airlock to repressurise the chamber, and then when it was finally complete, he pushed open the door, already halfway out of his suit. Tossing the suit into one corner, he hurried out into the corridor, snatching up his jacket and calling to the Bilubi to follow. 

"Wait," the second Drazi cried out. "Were is Maakha?" 

"Sorry," Lynx replied, raising his rifle and shooting the Drazi in the chest. "He didn't make it, and neither did you." He glanced over at the Bilubi bodyguard who was looking down at the Drazi. "Come on, we have to go. Security must be almost here!" The Bilubi nodded and together the two ran towards the nearest passage leading back to j'Nialth's store. 

 

 

Zack ran full pelt down the corridor, heading toward the site of the explosion, apparently somewhere in Red 9. He had been halfway to Green Sector when the station had been rocked by a powerful blast. He had been some distance away, but had still felt a faint tremor running through the station. He hoped no-one had been injured, but knew that the chances of that were very slim. 

Running around a corner, three other security officers in close pursuit, Zack skidded to a stop. In front of him, crouching near three neatly arranged bodies was Dr. Lillian Hobbs, several members of a medical emergency team, some of his own security officers and two members of an EVA team. Shaking his head in amazement, wondering how the doctor had managed to make it down here before him, Zack hurried over. 

Down the corridor, beyond a sealed pressure door, he could see a gaping hole in the wall where the bomb, or whatever it was that had caused the explosion had torn right through the hull. There didn't seem to be a lot of debris, but the bodies meant that at least three people hadn't escaped the explosion.

Then he recognised the features of the victim the doctor was examining and cursed loudly. "Damn," he said. "That's the woman I've been looking for. What the hell happened here?"

Lillian looked up at him and frown at him. "I don't know," she replied. "I just arrived. It looks like an explosion of some sort, although I think your men will be able to tell us more."

"Will she be all right?" he asked, gesturing towards Jeanne, who lay peacefully on the deck, looking almost as though she were sleeping. "I need to asked her some questions."

"Sorry, Chief," Lillian said. "It is a little late for her to answer anything, she's dead."

 


	6. Chapter 6

ACT FIVE

 

"Dead?" Zack said, sounding shocked. "But there is hardly a mark on her!" 

"That may be true," Dr. Hobbs replied. "But she had been floating around outside the station for close to ten minutes. I don't know of any race that can survive without an atmosphere for more than five, with the possible exception of the Vorlons. However..." 

"Ten minutes?" Zack interrupted. He looked surprise for a moment, before realising it had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to get here, even though he had been running most of the way. Whoever was responsible for this, certainly knew how to pick isolated section of the station. First Grey 19 and now Red 9, neither level could ever be called a major thoroughfare. Zack looked down at the body again, and frowned when he noticed that there was something that didn't quite fit. "I thought there would be more damage," he commented. "She looks like she died in her sleep, not like someone who has just spent ten minutes floating around outside the station." 

"As I was about to say," Lillian said, sounding faintly annoyed with Zack for interrupting her explanation. "There are several irregularities that need to be looked into." She paused and frowned at the scanner in her hand. "Once I get a replacement medical scanner that is. This one seems to be faulty. According to this, the body is completely devoid of water. That can't be right." 

"It would explain why her body hasn't frozen," one of the med-techs suggested. 

"That's impossible," Lillian replied firmly, shaking the scanner as if she were hoping that a little violence might convince the scanner to start working. "Water is one constant with all life forms. We all need it and without it even the simplest form of life can't exist." 

"There is some form of fluid in her system though," the med-tech pointed out, indicating a wound on the woman's arm, currently leaking a thin trail of a pale liquid. 

Lillian quickly knelt down and examined the shallow wound. "It looks similar to the substance you found earlier," she said to the med-tech. "Take another sample and run it down to Dr. Matsuki and get him to check." 

"I guess that tells me who's been bleeding all over Grey 19 then," Zack commented, watching as the med-tech began to collect a sample and place it in a container. "I thought the scanners picked up a human life form. That doesn't look like human blood to me." 

"It has some characteristics of human blood," Lillian told him, showing the security chief the data on her medical scanner. "And there is definitely some human DNA in there, which is what the station's biological scanners are searching for when they examine an incoming vessel, either human DNA or another species on record. This blood... I'm not even sure it contains DNA." 

"But you just said..." 

"I know," Lillian said wearily. "What I meant was that most of her body seems to register as human... My God, this scanner won't even detect what we are seeing. I don't even want to start on what it is telling me about her bones. With a density like that, her skeleton should weigh three times what it actually does." 

"Some sort of cybernetic enhancement?" Zack suggested. 

"It could be," she replied with a helpless shrug. "Although if it is, then the enhancements weren't done using any material known on Earth. I guess we will know more after the autopsy." 

"How long?" Zack asked. "This woman is — or rather was — the prime suspect for a series of crimes, including assaulting me." He crouched down and started searching through Jeanne's tattered coat. 

"I've already checked, Chief," one of the security officers cut in. "Her pockets are empty." 

Zack frowned. "All of them?"  

"What are you looking for?" Lillian cut in, indicating for two of the med-techs to put Jeanne's body on a stretcher. 

"The weapon she used on me," Zack replied. "I thought she might still have it... as well as anything else of interest." 

"I think I might have the gun you are looking for," Lillian replied, pointing towards a sealed container that sat on the deck near the airlock. The container was identical to the type used for transporting hazardous material, right down to the warning labels stencilled along the side. "I wouldn't touch it though," she quickly added as Zack crossed to examine the container. 

"What the hell!" Zack began, as he noticed the box had been sealed tight and had an encoded security seal. 

"One of the medical team tried to pick it up, and is currently lying in Medlab 5 with a rather nasty injury to his hand. It seems it operates on bio-electrical current, but needs a lot more than the average human can provide. It does tell us one thing about our friend here though." 

"What's that?" Zack asked, gingerly picking up the box and handing it to one of his officers. "Take that back to the station house and run some tests on it," he orders. The security officer quickly nodded and started off, the container tucked under one arm. "And don't touch the weapon," Zack yelled after him. "Use level 4 safety procedures. Treat it as if it were a live explosive." 

Lillian waited patiently until Zack was finished and then continued her explanation. "What it tell us, is that this woman has a much higher bio-electrical field that any other living creature I've encountered." 

"Which means?" Zack prompted. 

"That she should be dead," Lillian replied. "She had enough energy running around inside her to fry an elephant. She should have been dead days ago, not walking around the station as if nothing was wrong." 

"Another reason to make her autopsy a priority," Zack said. 

Lillian nodded, turning to one of the medical technicians. "Take her body down to the morgue and tell Dr. Samir to get started at once." 

"He's off duty," the med-tech reminded him. 

"I know," Lillian replied testily. "But I'm supposed to be too. Anyway, he's due to come back on duty in two hours. Take the body down to the morgue and then contact him. Tell him its a priority job and I want it completed as quickly as possible." 

The medical technician nodded and then, with a quick gesture to a colleague to help out, started pushing the stretcher along the corridor towards the nearest lift. "Do you want anything special done with the other two?" Lillian asked, as she turned back to Zack. 

The security chief glanced over at the two dead Drazi, their features hidden by a cloth that someone had draped over them. "What happened to them?" he asked. "Were they killed in the explosion?" 

Lillian shook her head. "No, one was found outside the station by the rescue team. He was wearing an EVA suit, but it had ruptured and he must have died before our team could reach him. The other one was shot at close range with an energy weapon, probably either Narn or Centauri make by the look of the wound. I'll have to do some further tests to make sure though." 

"That doesn't make a lot of sense," Zack muttered to himself. Then, when he noticed Lillian looked at him with a questioning expression on her face, he added, "I didn't know the Thrakallans used Drazi. The Drazi are fairly big with the Thieves Guild, and the guild and the Thrakallans don't really get along that much. Although..." He walked over to where Sonia Aldred was searching through the Drazi's belongings. "Aldred," he began. "Do you remember that Centauri from customs this morning?" 

"Aragon Pernimi?" she replied, looking up from her search. 

"That's the one," Zack said. "Aragon Pernimi. He said he was a guild master. I originally thought he might have been a member of a merchant guild, but now that I think about it, the Centauri merchants all work for the noble houses. He could be a member of the Thieves Guild instead." 

"Is that important?" Aldred asked. "I remember during the speech you gave us when we signed up that you said the Thieves Guild already had a significant presence on the station. You told us how to identify someone who was a member of the guild." 

Zack looked faintly embarrassed, mostly by the fact that someone had actually remembered something he had said in one of his briefings. "It could be," Zack replied. "This woman appears on the station and suddenly a lot of very powerful criminal organisations are interested in her. First Nicolai Luchenko, apparently back by IPX and with Psi-Corps lurking around in the background. Then the Thrakallans, who don't get involved in anything unless there is a profit to be made, and now there is a possibility that the Thieves Guild are interested as well. And on top of all that, Earthforce also wants her, and no-one is willing to tell me why." 

"It must be something important." 

"Yes, but what," Zack said, before shaking his head as if to dismiss a troubling thought. He glanced over at the two dead Drazi. "Did you find anything interesting on them?" he asked. 

"Just this," Aldred replied, tossing him a data crystal. 

Zack eyed the crystal thoughtfully. "It might be something important," he decided finally. "I'd better take a look at it." 

"Mr. Allan," Dr. Hobbs called out. When Zack turned to look at her, she continued. "Do you need me for anything else." 

Zack shook his head. "Not really, although I would like the autopsy results as soon as possible, as well as anything else you can give me." 

"I'll get Dr. Samir to get in touch with you as soon as he is finished," Lillian promised. 

"You're going to be busy?" Zack asked, noting that Lillian hadn't said that she would get in touch with him. 

"I was on my way back to my quarters when all this happened," she replied. "I've just been on duty for the past twelve hours, so I thought some sleep might..." 

"Is it that late?" Zack cut in. 

"You were unconscious for nearly three hours," Lillian reminded him. 

"Damn," Zack said. "I hadn't realised it was that long." He paused and then nodded. "All right, Doctor, I don't think we will we need your expert help for a few hours at least." As Lillian nodded and walked away, Zack turned back to Aldred, who was waiting patiently nearby. "Come with me," he ordered. "I've got a special job for you." 

"What is it?" the young officer asked, almost bouncing with enthusiasm as she followed Zack along the corridor and away from the blast site. 

"I want you to try and locate that Centauri. It shouldn't be too difficult. Check the accommodation logs, he will probably be in his quarters, but if not take a look around the bars. Once you've found him, let me know. I have a few questions I want to ask him." 

"Right away, Chief," Aldred replied, almost running as she headed off down the corridor. 

Zack shook his head, wondering if he had ever been that young. He glanced down at the data crystal he held in his hand. "Well, lets take a look and see what secrets you hold," he murmured to himself, transferring the crystal to his pocket. 

 

 

Bazyli Wielpolski groaned as he walked into the morgue, noticing the new addition to the ever changing collection of dead bodies that filled the large room, all laid out on their gleaming trolleys. "Looks like, we've got another one, Clive," he shouted, dropping the metal tray he was carrying down on a convenient table. It hit the table with a loud bang, the instruments on it bouncing around and adding considerably to the clatter.

"Baz, you're almost loud enough to wake the dead," his workmate complained as he walked through the door into the chilly, metal-walled room that served as the morgue on Babylon 5. He frowned for a second, as if noticing something out of place for the first time, then wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. "Man, is it cold in here today or what?"

"It's supposed to be cold you idiot, it's a morgue after all," Baz replied, walking over to the new body and pulling back the cloth covering its features, at the same time hoping it wasn't another Pak'ma'ra. What he saw made him pause, and for a second there was even a crack in his hardened, professional attitude. "Hell," he swore under his breath, before his normal mask of cool detachment returned and he called over to Clive, "take a look at this one, buddy. I think I've found you a date."

Clive wandered slowly over, rubbing his arms to try and restore some warmth to his thin body. His considerably larger companion didn't seem troubled by the unnaturally cold conditions in the morgue, almost as if he didn't feel it. But then, considering the amount of extra padding Baz was carrying around these days, that wasn't surprising. Then he saw the body of the young woman laid out on the trolley and shook his head sadly. "What a waste. Looks like she was only a teenager."

"Shouldn't have come here then," Baz said quietly. "No-one is safe in this place for long. Probably another lurker anyway. They seem to be dropping like flies lately."

"In those clothes," Clive said, pointing out the beautifully crafted leather outfit the corpse was still dressed in. It was torn in several places, but still looked very expensive. Then he noticed something around the dead girl's head, and swept back her pale blonde hair to expose the emerald studded ribbon of dark metal that tightly encircled her head. He whistled in surprise. "Now that doesn't look like something a lurker would be carrying. The scum in Down Below would have killed her in a second for something like this."

"Bloody hell," Baz muttered. "That's got to be worth more than a few credits. Look at the size of those gems." The glint of greed in his eyes, he reached out to take the circuit, only to be pulled up by Clive's restraining hand.

"You're not thinking of taking it, are you?" Clive asked, looking more worried than outraged. "Don't you remember what happened to Eric and Stevenson last month. Allan had them up on charges so fast they didn't even have time to blink. Of course, they would have to rat the Drazi ambassador's aide."

"They were just stupid enough to get caught," Baz said, reaching down again. "How were they to know that Allan already knew what was in the deadie's pockets. How could they know the bastard had already checked over the body at the scene?"

"Well, this is another one of his cases," Clive said, reading off the card tacked to the end of the trolley. " Dr. Samir is due to cut her open sometime this morning and  Allan probably has all her possessions already logged. I wouldn't touch her if I were you, just tag her and bag her. Maybe after the autopsy we can take a look around."

"No harm in just looking," Baz muttered under his breath, reaching down to pick up the circuit. "I just want to hold it."

As his thick fingers closed around the metal circuit, there was a sudden blur of movement from the girl lying on the trolley. Her left arm shot up and grasped his  pudgy wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting his eager hand away from the circuit. Before Baz even had time to scream in fear, her eyes flicked open and slowly swivelled around to focus on his suddenly terrified face. Baz found himself looking into a two pits of pure energy, glowing brightly in the dimly lit morgue.

"That is mine," she said in a ghostly whisper, her slim hand closing around Baz's thick wrist, crushing the flesh and shattering the bones beneath. "You will not touch it again."

Beside the trolley, Clive let out a sudden strangled scream, turned and ran for the exit as fast as he could. The girl's head suddenly snapped around to watch him run, and then almost as quickly, she reached up with her other hand, grabbed Baz by the front of his stained white coat and threw him bodily across the room. There was a sickening thudding sound, followed the short squeal of air being forced out of someone's lungs, and then the morgue was quiet once more.

Jeanne swung her legs over the side of the trolley and stood up, looking around her. The fat, ugly man in the white coat was lying on the far side of the room, his large frame resting somewhat uncomfortably on top of skinny, rat-faced man. Both were unconscious, but not dead. Jeanne could still sense the warm blood still flowing in their circulatory systems, and their chests slowly rising and falling. At least, the fat man's chest was rising and falling, the smaller man was obviously not in the most comfortable of positions and would soon die unless she aided him.

Her boots squeaking slightly as she walked over the smooth metal floor, Jeanne crossed to where the two men lay in a crumpled heap and, reaching down, rolled the larger man off his smaller companion. He had bumped his head when she had thrown him, but apart from that he did not appear to be badly injured. The one he had called Clive was in worse condition, but now that he could breathe he would probably live. Jeanne wasn't overly concerned, as anyone who robbed from the dead was obviously not worthy of life. But, she had sworn never to take a life unless it could not be avoided, even men as loathsome as these two. With a final look at the two morgue workers, she turned and headed towards the exit.

Suddenly she froze, noticing for the first time that her pockets were feeling a considerably lighter than she had remembered. Patting herself down, she quickly discovered that everything she had been carrying had vanished, including the incredibly valuable data crystal. She leaned against a nearby table to recover her strength, while she thought back on what had happened. She remembered the explosion and then being attacked in space by the two beings, probably humans, in EVA suits. Then her memory started to become a little foggy. She recalled being struck and then she didn't regain consciousness for nearly three minutes, when she was being dragged into an airlock by a suited man, probably the same one who had struck her.

She frowned. The next few minutes were also a blur, so the blow to the head must have left her weak, either that or the incredible cold of space had effected her more than she had originally thought. She remembered voices, someone poking her and an electrical device of some sort being waved nearby — she could feel a faint tingling in her skin as it was passed over her. Realising that she was probably too weak to fight, she had remained still and concentrated on not breathing, or making any other movements that might be spotted.

Then, as her strength had slowly recovered, she began to hear snatches of conversation, enough to know that the Security Chief was there, along with two women, but not enough to understand what they had been saying. Finally, she had been taken away and bought here, where she had lain on the cold trolley for nearly half an hour, slowly draining heat from the surrounding area to fuel her recovery.

+She glanced over at the two morgue workers again, and then around at the room itself. There was no sign of her possessions, so they must have been taken elsewhere. Then she recalled the creature that had watched her as it blew a hole in the wall behind her. That creature was similar to the two that served j'Nialth, which meant that the crime lord was probably behind the ambush... again. A frown creasing her brow as she puzzled over how j'Nialth could profit from the actions he was taking against her, she left the morgue and headed off down the nearest corridor. She didn't know exactly where it led, but eventually it would come to a corridor she remembered from the tour Zack had given her.

She knew it wouldn't be long before someone came into the morgue looking for the two men, but she didn't worry about that now. All her attention was focused on retrieving the information she had spend so much time and effort looking for, and the best place to look for that was in the hands of j'Nialth. So, all she had to do was track the slippery Thrakallan merchant down, give him a good talking to, reclaim her property, and then leave, assuming that security didn't interfere, j'Nialth hadn't already left the station, or one of a hundred other things that could go wrong.

Jeanne shook her head, wondering how a quest that had started out so simple had quickly become so complex. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that the Vorlons were still here, still trying to stop her by putting obstacles in the path of her ambitions. After a suspicious glance around the corridor, just to be absolutely certain there were no Vorlons hiding nearby, she pushed that thought into the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind and set off down the corridor with long, purposeful strides. 

 

 

J'Nialth walked slowly out of Alfredo's Pool Hall, and incredulous looking Lynx following close behind, shaking his head slowly. "Why the hell did you offer him that much?" he demanded, as soon as they were out of ear shot. That fool would have settled for at least half of what you gave him." 

"It is unimportant," j'Nialth replied, tapping a heavy leather bag that hung around his neck. "There are plenty more. Besides, now he will move quickly to settle and I will be able to move in before night is out. Credits are a good motivator." 

"But a bar! Why would you want a dive like that? At least buy one of the up-market joints." 

"They do not have what I want," j'Nialth replied, pointing towards a small group of uniformed security officers heading towards the pool hall. "Alfredo's is popular with security. With correct lubricant, they will speak more freely. I do not understand this pool game, but I understand value of knowing my enemy." 

"I still think it's a waste of time," Lynx muttered under his breath. Then louder, he added. "Where to now, then? Do you want to buy one of the brothels in Down Below, because Earthforce personal sometimes go there? Or, do you want to start sponsoring the Security baseball team?" 

J'Nialth paused and stared intently at Lynx. "A brothel?" he mused. "A good idea. I must consider it further." 

"Or," Lynx added quickly, before the Thrakallan had time to think too much about the idea. "Do we spend the credits on outfitting a gang big enough to rule this station. I can..." 

"No!" J'Nialth cut in. "That is not Thrakallan way. We allow others to run around fighting each other, while we remain hidden and collect our profits..." Suddenly he stopped and looked along the corridor. "What are those?" he asked, waving his claw toward a collection of humans and Narn gathered further down the corridor. The artificial tone of j'Nialth's translator were still as calm as ever, but Lynx imagined that he could sense a twinge of anger in the Thrakallan's voice. 

"I've hired some new men," Lynx told him. "With all the heat security is going to bringing down on us, I though we would need some more bodyguards." 

"They are unsuitable," j'Nialth replied. "I do not desire inefficient servants such as these. My servants will be released soon. They will be suitable, and we still have Centauri. I do not need these." 

"Don't be a fool!" Lynx almost shouted. "Look, I've had just about enough of this j'Nialth. Either they stay or I go, we can't run a gang with only a few stupid Bilubi and an untrustworthy Centauri." 

J'Nialth stared at his lieutenant, his impassive gaze giving away nothing on his feelings. "Very well," he said finally. "They stay, but next time check with me, or I may be searching for a new assistant." Then he spotted a morose looking Aragon Pernimi hanging around near the back of the hired thugs, glaring at anyone who dared to approach him. "You brought Centauri?" he asked Lynx. 

"I didn't want to leave him sitting around the shop," Lynx replied. "I don't trust the bastard." 

"Good," j'Nialth replied. "I have much to discuss with him. Continue back to my store, I have items to collect." 

Lynx stared at j'Nialth's back for several seconds, watching as the Thrakallan crossed to where Aragon waited and begun to speak quietly with the Centauri. After nearly a minute, j'Nialth left the Centauri and started down the corridor, motioning for Lynx to follow. "Keep an eye on that Centauri," Lynx muttered to one of his men, as he ordered them to follow j'Nialth. 

Ahead, j'Nialth was just about to go around a right-angled corner, when he suddenly pulled up, his henchmen nearly running into him . The Thrakallan stared down the hall, frozen with shock as he watched the human woman he had ordered killed walking slowly towards him. For a second she also stopped, looking almost as surprised as he was. Then, her eyes appeared to blaze with anger and j'Nialth scurried to escape, pushing aside several of the newly hired thugs on the way. "Stop her!" he ordered, snaring Aragon's arm with a claw and tugging the Centauri along with him. Aragon looked faintly surprised, but allowed himself to be pulled back along the corridor.

One of the thugs, a human who had only hours earlier been a insignificant mugger working the lower decks, hefted a large Drazi sword and hurried forward, swinging it towards Jeanne. Lynx's pleasure at the sight soon vanished though, as the slight woman effortlessly reached out and grabbed her attacker's wrist and then with a sharp twist of her hand snapped the bones in his arm. As the sword slipped from the thug's suddenly numb fingers, she snatched it up, plucking it out of the air so easily that Lynx began to wonder if the weapon was made of some lightweight plastic instead of fire-hardened steel. 

Snarling angrily, one of Lynx's men pushed his way to front and fired a small grenade from the launcher he had was carrying. Jeanne reacted immediately, swinging her stolen sword like a baseball bat, striking the grenade and sending it straight back way it had come. Then, with another blinding strike, she slashed the sword across the legs of another of j'Nialth's thugs. As the criminal, this time one of the two Narn in the party, fell clutching at the bloody gash in his left leg, the rest of j'Nialth's men threw themselves away from the grenade, which had bounced past j'Nialth and Lynx and landed near the middle of the group. 

Realising that he wasn't going to get out of range in time, Lynx grabbed the collar of one of those attempting to flee and spun the unfortunate man around throwing him in the direction of the grenade. By a sick twist of fate, Lynx's actions saved most of those in the corridor, the man tripping and falling right on top of the grenade. There was a muffled explosion and the thug flew into the air, only to land a metre or so away, a pool of blood quickly spreading across the deck, gushing from the hole that used to be his chest. 

For a moment everyone stopped and stared at the dead man in shock, Jeanne even more horrified because she had been partially responsible for the man's death. Lynx, however, didn't even pause. Grabbing the grenade launcher, Lynx pushed aside the thug who had been carrying it, dashed forward, and swung the butt of the weapon towards Jeanne's head. Despite her horror over what had just happened, Jeanne wasn't so easily caught off guard. Jumping back, she swung her stolen blade upwards, towards the weapon in Lynx's hands. There was a screech of metal striking metal, but the superbly crafted Drazi sword won out and Lynx found himself watching as half his weapon went flying. 

"Kill her!" he cried to two of his men, as he ducked out of the way, throwing the now useless grenade launcher in Jeanne's direction and hoping it might slow her down. 

She didn't follow. Instead, she ducked under the missile, took a step back, and then quickly scanned the collection of criminals, her gaze eventually falling on the bag j'Nialth was carrying. Both of her next attackers held long knives that they slowly tossed from hand to hand as they approached, evil smiles on their faces. Shaking her head sadly at the stupidity of those she faced, Jeanne lashed out with the blade, knocking the knife out of one of thug's hand and disabling the other with a slash across his chest. The wound wasn't deep enough to kill the man, but it was enough to make him, and the rest of the gang consider their futures very seriously indeed. 

While they hesitated, Jeanne held her sword in one hand and, reaching down, removed a narrow bladed dagger from a hidden pocket. While she was doing this, Lynx had commandeered another knife from one of his men and was cautiously approaching. Jeanne effortlessly parried his attacks with one hand, while drawing back the other hand and tossing the dagger. Lynx flinched, but it wasn't aimed at him. Instead, it flew past his head, and straight towards j'Nialth. 

The Thrakallan didn't even have time to move, but had he done so the dagger probably would have hit him. Instead, it had been aimed perfectly, slicing through one of the straps keeping the leather bag around his neck and barely even nicking j'Nialth's exoskeleton. As the Thrakallan's claws waved helplessly in a futile attempt to stop the bag falling to the ground, Jeanne disposed of Lynx, knocking his weapon from his hands with one blow and then smashing her fist into his face, the hilt of the sword breaking Lynx's nose. 

As Lynx fell back, clutching at his ruined nose, the remaining criminals decided they had seen more than enough and fled, carrying j'Nialth and Aragon along with them. J'Nialth looked longingly at his lost bag, but after seeing Jeanne strike Lynx again, bringing the hilt of her sword down on the top of his skull with just enough strength to render him unconscious, the Thrakallan decided it was time to go. Grabbing at Aragon's arm again, he pointed towards a side corridor. "This way," he said. 

Aragon glanced at the fleeing criminals and then nodded slowly, slipping into the side corridor with Lynx. "Where to now?" he asked. 

"I have a safe place," j'Nialth replied. "But we must hurry." Aragon nodded and they both started to run — or in j'Nialth's case a sort of shambling walk, assisted by the occasional fluttering of his wings, which until now had been hidden beneath his robe — towards the end of the corridor, and what they hoped would be safety. 

Jeanne ignored them, instead concentrating on her goal, the bag she assumed would contain her missing data crystal. At least, she hoped it would. She would have hated to think all this bloodshed was not for a reason. Picking up the bag, she opened it and began to examine the contents. Searching through the small pile of gem stones — noting as she did so that there were considerably fewer stones now — she quickly located the data crystal, as well as her missing identicard and credit chit, although she didn't even bother to retrieve them. 

Carefully placing the data crystal into a hidden pocket, she dropped the bag and its contents back on the floor. Smoothing down her coat, she was about to leave when someone suddenly shouted out, "stop right there!" She spun around, only to see three security officers slowly approaching, their guns trained on her and their movements cautious. Jeanne imagined how it must look to them, especially when they saw the bloody sword resting against the wall, but she didn't have time for this. Quickly snatching up the sword, she took off, running down the same corridor j'Nialth and Aragon had just taken. 

"Stop!" one of the security officers shouted again, following up his warning with a hail of plasma bolts. One of the shots struck Jeanne in the shoulder, but she ignored the hit and kept on running, quickly outdistancing the security officers. Reaching the end of the corridor, she looked around, but saw no sign of j'Nialth or his Centauri ally. Shrugging, she turned down a corridor she assumed would lead her towards docking bays. She could still hear the security officers puffing their way down the corridor behind her, but knew they had no way of stopping her. A faint smile on her face, Jeanne started running again, knowing now that little stood between her and escape. 

 

 

Zack leaned back in his chair, resting comfortably as he waited for the computer to finish scanning the data crystal that had been found on the dead Drazi. As he had expected, it had been encoded, but given time the computer should be able to break the codes. At least, he hoped it would, some of these criminals were damn smart. Another computer program was busy searching Earthforce records for information on Jeanne Darias, but so far it had come up blank. Even the records on Sheffer IV, supposedly her planet of birth, had no record of her existence. Zack wasn't that surprised. He had suspected that her Identicard must have been faked, especially after she pulled a weapon on him. 

"Code found," the computer reported suddenly, interrupting his musing. 

Zack leaned forward, eager to see what the data crystal contained, when suddenly his link beeped. "Zack here," he answered quickly. 

"Chief!" a voice cried out. The speaker was obviously running as the sound of heavy breathing came over the link. "There has been an explosion in Blue 8. There is at least one casualty and several wounded. We are pursuing a suspect on foot, but she is getting away from us." 

"She?" Zack queried, a sudden, horrible suspicion forming in his head. "Give me a description!" 

"Um... blonde hair, about one fifty, one sixty centimetres, and carrying a sword." 

"And her clothing?" 

The security officer on the other end of the line paused for a moment, and when his voice returned he sounded even worse, his breath coming in short gasps. "A long... leather... coat," he managed to get out. "She's getting away from us, chief? I don't know what she's on, but we can't keep up." 

"Try," Zack replied. "I think I know where she is heading. I'll try and cut her off." Ending the call, he quickly collected his pistol and ran for the door. There was no-one outside his office, so he ran down the corridor to the nearest ready room, where a small group of security officers were lounging around, enjoying a break. Zack quickly pointed to two of the officers. "You two, get down to the morgue and tell me if the body of that suspect we bought in about an hour ago is still there. The rest of you, come with me." Then as an afterthought, he added, "and stop by the armoury. I have a feeling we are going to need some heavy armour." 

Barely five minutes latter, Zack was jogging up a set of stairs leading to the docking bays, a fully armed and armoured squad right behind him. Pausing by the top of the stairs, Zack stopped to catch his breath, waving for the squad to go on ahead. After a few seconds of rest, he was about to start off after them, when his link beeped again. "Zack Allan," he answered. 

"Wilson here, Chief! I've just checked the morgue. There is no sign of the body, but I found two technicians unconscious near the door. One looks like he has a broken wrist, but they are alive." 

"Do what you can for them," Zack replied, silently cursing himself for not ordering a guard in the morgue, although no-one — not even the ever-suspicious Garibaldi — could have imagined that a dead woman would come back to life. Now even more worried, Zack ran as fast as he could, quickly passing the squad of security officers, who in turn increased their speed to keep up with him. Running into the docking bay through a side door, Zack noted with some relief that the shuttle was still there. "Spread out," he told the security team. Watch all the exits. I don't want this woman to get anywhere near that shuttle." 

Quickly the security officers spread out across the docking bay, taking up positions near the doors. Turning to check their positions, he saw a now familiar figure running toward the main entrance. "Stop right there," he shouted out, hurrying over. "And put down the weapon," he added, when he noticed the blood-stained sword she was holding in her right hand. 

Jeanne's head snapped around and as her gaze focused on him, she slowed to a walk. "Stand aside, Mr. Allan," she ordered softly, her eyes wandering towards the distant shape of her shuttle.  

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Zack replied, signalling to his team. As one, they all raised their weapons and pointed them towards Jeanne. "Drop your weapon or we'll fire," Zack warned, when he noticed Jeanne gripping her sword a little tighter. 

"Stand aside," she repeated. "You can not harm me." 

"We'll see about that," Zack replied, raising his hand to give the order to fire. At the same time though, he couldn't help wondering if she was telling the truth. After all, she had just survived ten minutes in the airless void of space, not to mention fought off several gangs of criminals. But he pushed that thought into the back of his mind. "Put the sword down," he warned again. "I don't want to have to hurt you." 

With a sigh of resignation, Jeanne lowered the sword, but at the same time also reached out with her thoughts, calling for her shuttle. The sentient vessel had been observing the conflict and replied at once. < I am here, Mistress,> it said quietly, touching her mind. < What do you desire.>

<Where is Zater'Enin?>

<He is close,> the shuttle replied.  <Soon he will arrive.>

She nodded, drawing a strange stare from one of the security officers approaching to knock the sword out of her hands.  <Stop the humans,> she ordered silently, slowly raising her weapon and smiling at the officers, who didn't smile back. "If I were you, I would start running," she told the two officers, before diving to one side as they raised their weapons and began firing at her. 

"Stop!" Zack shouted, but it was no use. Seeing the sudden movement, the rest of the security officers had raised their weapons and fired, bolts of white-hot energy lighting up the darkened docking bay as they targeted Jeanne's desperately twisting and ducking form. Several bolts struck her, but as before she shrugged them off, absorbing enough of the energy to repair the damage to her skin and continuing on her way. 

Behind Zack, unseen by anyone but Jeanne, the smooth hull of the shuttle suddenly morphed and two short tentacles protruded, each tipped in a dangerous, but still organic looking weapon. As the security officers started firing another round at Jeanne, the tips of the tentacles pulsed and a dart, almost identical to the one Jeanne's pistol had fired shot into the calf muscle of one of the officer. More darts followed and in less than twenty seconds the shuttle had cleared the docking bay of threats, with only Zack and one or two other officers still awake. Standing now only because they had ducked down quickly enough to avoid the hail of darts. 

<Enough,> Jeanne ordered. The shuttle quickly complied and the tentacles retracted into the hull, which quickly smoothed over and in seconds it looked as unbroken as before. "I did warn you," Jeanne said as she walked towards Zack.  

She had discarded her borrowed sword when the shuttle had first begun firing, but Zack still kept his pistol trained on her. "What the hell are you?" he demanded, taking a step backwards as she approached and quickly glancing around for an escape route. 

"You do not need that," she said, pointing to his pistol. "I will not harm you. All I wish to do is leave." When Zack didn't lower his pistol, she smiled softly. "You would not understand who and what I am," she told him. "Sometimes, I'm not even sure I do." 

"Try me." 

Jeanne stopped smiling. "Very well, Mr. Allan. I was, and I suppose in a way, I still am, a servant of the beings you know of as the Vorlons. I was their soldier, their holy warrior." She opened her arms wide and spun around in a circle. "They gave me this body, extended my life, made me their slave and I willingly gave myself to them, mind and body." 

"What are you doing here then? Shouldn't you still be off with your Vorlon buddies?" 

Jeanne was now less than two metres away from the security chief, and slowly came to stop, standing quietly while Zack continued to train his weapon on her. "My reason for being here are not your concern," she replied coldly. "As for the Vorlons, my faith in their cause was lost many years ago. There was a falling out, you might say, followed by a minor war. They found out they made me too well, but none of that is of your concern, and neither is my business here." 

"It is if you commit crimes on this station," Zack replied, somehow managing to stand his ground, despite the danger he knew he must be in. He had seen the power of the Vorlons a close range — from both the Vorlon ambassador Ulkesh and Lyta Alexander — and he imaged Jeanne must be equally powerful. 

Jeanne shook her head, and then lunging forward so quickly, Zack didn't even see her begin to move, she ripped the pistol from his fingers and tossing it off into the distance. "I committed no crime," she told him. "I was attacked and defended myself, but I committed no crimes." 

"The Captain won't see things that way," Zack told her. "And after what you did to me, I'm not sure I do either." 

"You were not harmed." 

"That's not the point. You can't do things like that." 

"I think you have found out that I can," Jeanne replied, walking past Zack and heading towards her shuttle. "I have what I came for, and your concerns are no longer mine." 

Zack quickly glanced over to where the two conscious security officers crouched. For a moment he considered ordering them to fire, but then recalled how ineffective the PPG strikes had proven just moment earlier. By the time he turned back, Jeanne was gone, vanishing inside the shuttle. As he watched, the tiny black vessel lifted off and darted into an open airlock. Another shuttle, this one just emerging from the airlock, almost collided with the huge pressure doors as its pilot reacted to the appearance of another vessel right in front of him. The two missed each other by the merest fraction of a centimetre, and then the black-hulled shuttle was gone, plunging down into the airlock.  

Zack glanced around at the stunned forms of his guards and after a moments hesitation tapped his link. "Captain," he said, as soon as Lochley responded. "I don't think you are going to like this..." 

 

 

"Report," Lochley snapped at the operations deck, as soon as Zack had finished his report. 

"The shuttle is in the main airlock," Lieutenant Corwin replied. "It's trapped, but if that shuttle is armed, it won't be there for long." 

"Delay her as long as possible and scramble Alpha Squadron to intercept. Also bring the defence grid on-line." 

Corwin nodded and hurried to carry out her orders. "Alpha Squadron is on its way," he reported. "And I've already bought the defence grid into standby mode." 

"Good," Lochley nodded. "Now, open the main airlock and allow her shuttle out. Lock the defence grid onto the vessel as soon as it emerges and order Alpha Squadron to intercept the her before she reaches the jumpgate." As Corwin nodded again, his hand flying over the console as he inputted commands. "Now," she added, as the black shuttle slowly emerged from the station. "Open a channel to that shuttle. I want to let our friend down there know exactly what she is facing." 

 

 

"Which way?" Aragon asked, slowing to a walk and peering down three seemingly identical corridors. "This place is built like a maze." Any sign of pursuit had faded long ago, but the Centauri telepath didn't want to hang around to make sure Jeanne was no longer following them. In fact, if he had his way, he wouldn't see her ever again. Aragon had never liked people who could resist his powers.

"Come," j'Nialth said, pointing a claw down the corridor to the left. "This way leads back to central corridor. We can find our way to safety from there."

Aragon nodded and then, just as he was about to start off down the corridor, he staggered, clutching at his head. J'Nialth looked at him curiously. "You are unwell?" he asked, before glancing back in the direction of the corridor as if he was considering departing and leaving the Centauri behind.

Aragon shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "I'll be all right," he replied, his head cocked to one side as if listening to something in the distance. Then an expression of fear crossed his face. "It's coming here," he said, sounding both amazed and frightened at the same time.

"What is?" j'Nialth remanded.

"The creature," Aragon replied, massaging his temples to try and remove a painful ache that was developing. "The one I saw when I touched those gem stones in your office. "The powerful alien telepath. It is coming here soon. I can feel its presence as it approaches."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know. All I know is that it's angry about something. I was scanning to see if anyone was following us, when I picked up the mental signature of the creature. It is linked to something here, so I can sense it, even though it is still in Hyperspace — at least I think that is where it is. It's sending its thoughts to a being on this station, or very near this station, saying that it will be arriving shortly." He grimaced slightly and then shook his head again. "The link's gone," he replied. "I think it might have detected me. We should go somewhere safe."

"I know a place," j'Nialth said, pointing towards the right corridor. "But we must hurry." Aragon nodded quickly and followed j'Nialth as the crime lord started off down the corridor. Behind them, just visible through a half-hidden window set into the hull, a sudden flare of light erupted in space above the station.

 

 

Zater'Enin cried out in anger. An alien, some insignificant creature hailing from some minor, forgotten world had interrupted his sending. The alien's thoughts had disrupted the fragile link he maintain with his cousin in the other universe and now he could not resume contact. A wave of fear ran though him as he imagined that his mistress might already be dead and with her, the hopes of his people. 

But he pushed those thoughts deep inside, resuming his journey, although now there was considerably more urgency about his movements. He reached out and touched the nearby river of current that he had been following. 'Not long now,' he mused silently, following the currents as they swirled towards a huge metallic structure, one of the strange objects his mistress called a jumpgate, a structure that existed in both universes at once. 

A primitive device, some kind of sensor, reacted to his presence, Zater'Enin noting the changes in its electronic mind as it powered up and prepared to broadcast a signal. With a thought, he silenced the device, manoeuvring around the rapidly expanding ball of fire the device had become and plunging towards the location his mistress had given him earlier. 

Smoothly, he slipped past the jumpgate and reached out with his thoughts, manipulating the very structure of hyperspace and beginning the process that would open the portal to where his mistress awaited. With a flash of light, the vortex opened and Zater'Enin gave a cry of triumph as he rushed though, a vast alien structure leaping out at him as he tore back into real space. Vengeance on his mind, he turned his attention to the vast blue-hulled structure. The tiny minds of thousands of minor life forms lurked in the structure's veins, but he was looking for one specific creature. 

Scanning the structure with his powerful mind, he soon located the one who had disrupted him earlier and sent a pulse of anger in that direction, noting with some pleasure the response from the creature as it took the full brunt of his mental anger. Then, his pulse racing with excitement, the young warrior turned towards the distant shape of his cousin, who waited near the front of the structure, surrounded by a ring of alien vessels, hot and fiery, but with tiny, insignificant minds. It was time to do battle! 

 

 

"All right!" Lochley growled, after yet another futile attempt to get a response from the shuttle, which was now just sitting in space, surrounded by a ring of starfuries. "We'll play it your way then." Angrily, she switched off the comm. unit and looked over at Corwin. "Lieutenant, activate the secondary defence grid and lock onto that shuttle. I want it disabled. Not destroyed, just disabled, so target engines only." 

"If I can find the engines," Corwin muttered, deftly activating the defence grid with a few keystrokes and then pausing as a flashing light caught his attention. "Captain..." he began, when suddenly all hell broke loose around them. 

The whole station suddenly lurched, throwing most of the crew to the deck, with only Corwin and Lochley managing to brace themselves in time. Corwin because he had half a second of warning, and Lochley because she was already gripping the console in front of her with her hands. The harsh blare of emergency sirens rang out across the command deck, the station beginning to shudder and shake, almost as if it were a building being effected by an earthquake. Then, the calm voice of the station's computer rang out. "Proximity alert. Unknown object on direct collision course." 

"What the hell..." Lochley began, before stopping as she realised that something even stranger was happening. She felt a strange twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach and suddenly felt lighter, as if something was effecting the station's gravity. She had been on Earthforce ships that lacked simulated gravity before, and this felt very similar. It was almost as if something had stopped the station rotating. A quick look out the observation window confirmed that it hadn't  — the stars still rotated as normal — but something was obviously effecting the station's gravity. 

"A jump point just opened," Corwin reported, one hand gripping the railing, while the other tried to type commands into the console. "Something big came out... right on top of us. It's projecting some kind of gravity field that is playing hell with our systems. Auto targeting is out, as are long range sensors."

"Switch to manual," the Captain ordered. "And get me some information on what that thing is. All the screens here are blank."

"Just a moment, Captain. I'm..."

"We don't have a moment, Lieutenant. Get me some data on this ship and get it now!"

One of the bridge technicians suddenly gasped and then, as Lochley turned to see what was wrong now, he pointed at something outside. Lochley glanced back to the observation window and then almost gasped in surprise herself, as something massive began to pass overhead. Leaning forward and craning her neck so she could look upwards, she watched as a huge, white alien shape appeared. It was long, narrow, and curved at the end, and looked almost like a tentacle of some great sea creature. Then she saw another of the objects above the first, and another further over, and then yet another above that one. Then the main vessel emerged and her surprise changed into something that more resembled fear. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is," she managed to say, stepping backwards, as if putting an extra metre of two between her and alien vessel would provide some protection.

The lieutenant's gaze quickly dropped to his instruments, his eyes opening wide in surprise as they reported the class of vessel. "It's... It's a Vorlon war cruiser," he said disbelievingly. " A big one, nearly two kilometres in length. Its configuration is a little different to the standard silhouette, but it's definitely of Vorlon design." 

"Pull those fighters back," she ordered, watching in fascination as the gigantic warship loomed over the station, the glow from its powerful beam weapon lighting up the space around. "Get them out of the way now! And get those weapons on-line." 

Corwin nodded, but it was already too late, the bright green beam from the warship lancing out and slicing neatly through an engine on one of the starfuries. Lochley noted with some relief that the pilot manage to eject, and then the rest of the fighters scattered, occasionally firing off ineffectual bursts from their own weapons as they struggled to avoid the Vorlon vessel. The war cruiser didn't fire on them again, instead manoeuvring until it was above the tiny shuttle. From her position in C&C, Lochley saw the tiny shuttle suddenly dart towards the warship and vanish into it as if it had been swallowed whole. The hidden shuttle bay didn't open in a mechanical way, but rather the shuttle appeared to merge with the warship. If fact, she almost imagined that she could see ripples running along the surface of the hull, as if the shuttle had just slipped beneath the surface of an ocean. 

As the defenders watched in stunned silence, the warship turned from the station and began to accelerate away — without any visible propulsion system. Unlike the more familiar green-hulled dreadnaughts the Vorlons had used to such great efficiency during the last days of the Shadow War, this vessel... this creature had no visible engines. It was almost frightening to watch it move, a gigantic, ghostly shape against the blackness of space, its white hull smoothly sliding through the void like no vessel ever should.

Several of the fighter pilots turned their tiny vessels to follow, lines of plasma bolts arcing out towards the war cruiser, but the huge ship was already accelerating out of range. Realising that unless something drastic was done it would escape, Lochley turned to Corwin. "Lieutenant, hit it before it opens a jump point," she ordered.

"Yes sir," he responded, firing almost reflexively. Without the automated target acquisition system his manual targeting left much to be desired. The war cruiser effortlessly twisted away from the lines of fire from the station's main batteries, then it was gone, a flash of light from the newly created jump point the only indication that it ever existed. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

EPILOGUE

 

"So that's it then," the Captain said, slamming the report down with such force that the folder flew open and papers scattered across her desk. "Everyone seems to know about this woman but us. Do you know what the President said to me?" 

"Which one?" Zack asked, aware that Lochley had spoken to both Presidents Luchenko and Sheridan sometime in the past couple of hours. He had been too busy mopping us the mess left behind by Jeanne and her rather spectacular departure from the station to keep tabs on the actual conversations. 

"Luchenko," Lochley replied angrily. "She told me that she understood my concerns, but that in the interest of the continued wellbeing of the Earth Alliance she couldn't tell me any more." 

"Perhaps she is telling the truth," Zack commented. "I've been talking to...." 

"I don't care if she is or not," Lochley interrupted angrily. "My station has been turned upside down and I would like a better explanation, than 'Sorry, it's a matter of Alliance security.' We have at least three dead, even more wounded. Someone has blown a hole in the station, I have to try and replace one of our fighters, and after all that the culprit still managed to escape." 

"I don't think we had much choice, Captain. If we had tried to prevent her leaving, that war cruiser would have sliced us apart. Hell, a ship that size, it only had to collide with us and we'd have all been dead." 

"I know that, Mr. Allan," Lochley said, a little quieter now. "I'm just mad she escaped, especially after the President spent nearly half an hour complaining that we didn't arrest this woman. Not that she sent any Earthforce ships to assist. In fact, the entire fleet appears to be busy on the other side of the Alliance. It's almost as though they knew this was going to happen and were staying out of the way and letting us deal with it." 

"That sounds more like Earth," Zack smiled. "What did President Sheridan say? Any more luck there?" 

"He said he will look into it, but short of sending the White Star fleet into Vorlon space to search for the war cruiser there isn't a lot he can do either." 

"Are we certain the war cruiser was headed towards Vorlon space?" 

Lochley nodded. "Earthdome was able to confirm that, although they were very short of details. The last reading from the Hyperspace beacons put it on a direct heading for the border of the Vorlon Empire. There may not be any Vorlons left, but I think this shows there is still something going on out there." 

"It could be something to look into," Zack agreed. "Although, I would prefer it if someone else did the looking." 

"I agree," Lochley said. "Although I'd like to know exactly what that woman was. She obviously wasn't human." 

"I'm not so certain about that, Captain," Zack replied. "She did say that she had once served the Vorlons. I've been talking to Dr. Matsuki, the alien biology specialist that Dr. Hobbs asked to look into the blood-like substance you found in Grey 19. He has a theory you might find interesting." 

"Go on." 

"He thinks that Jeanne may have once been as human as you or I, but she has been altered by the Vorlons. Remember Lyta, and how powerful she was. I think this Jeanne was another of the Vorlon's weapons. She almost said as much herself. Dr. Matsuki has discovered that her blood has remarkable regenerative properties, which was how she was able to survive being plunged into space. It also appears to able to synthesise — or absorb, the doctor wasn't too clear on this point — light and heat, which would explain why our weapons didn't work." 

"This doesn't explain why everyone was so interested in her." 

"Well, apart from the fortune in gem stones I discovered near the scene of the last... incident, Dr. Matsuki also has a theory on that too. It's only a theory at the moment, and he can't test it unless he gets another sample of her blood, but he thinks that it is possible for her blood to supplement and replace human blood." 

"I'm not sure I understand," Lochley frowned. "Why is that important?" 

"Think about it, Captain. If her blood was what made her so powerful, and a simple transfusion could pass those abilities on to any human. Wouldn't that be worth fighting over?" 

"It would," Lochley agreed. "That would explain Mr. Luchenko's actions, but it still doesn't excuse her own actions on this station." 

"She didn't really hurt anyone," Zack argued. 

"Tell that to the three corpses down in the morgue," Lochley snapped. "Not to mention Ambassador Vizhak. He wasted no time running to my door to complain about the latest atrocities committed against his people." 

Zack reached into his pocket as tossed a data crystal onto the desk. "Next time you see Vizhak, give him that," he told Lochley. "That should shut him up." 

"What is it?" 

"A recording showing the murder of his aide," Zack replied. "It seems another of his assistants was responsible, most likely an attempt to rise through the ranks by eliminating the aide and taking his place. At least one of the Drazi killed today was also implicated on the recording and I'm close to arresting the whole gang responsible for initiating this carnage in the first place. I have a rather nasty looking character called Lynx Riesel locked up in the brig. With what we've got on him, I'm expecting him to sing like a bird in an attempt save himself from a mindwipe. With any luck, we should have j'Nialth and the rest of his gang in a cell in a day or two." 

"Well, that's one piece of good news," Lochley agreed. "I don't like the way this was allowed to happen though. That woman should have been picked up in customs before she even got onto the station. Shouldn't the scanner have detected that her Identicard was a fake?" 

"It should have," Zack agreed. "I don't know how that slipped past us. I suspect it was probably a very good fake. Every time we come up with some new security measure, someone eventually finds a way past it. However, I'm getting one of the tech boys to look at it. Hopefully we will have solution shortly." 

"Good. I wouldn't like to think that any criminal could sneak onto the station." 

Zack almost laughed. "If only it were that simple, Captain. This station has always had a criminal element, and I don't think that is about to change. All we can do is try and keep it under control." 

"Yes, hopefully you will, Mr. Allan. I've had quite enough killing and destruction for a while." 

 

 

Lynx looked up as the door opened, the uniformed figures of two security guards filling the opening. "On your feet," the taller of the two men ordered, tapping his shock stick against the wall. "You have a visitor." 

A thin, red-haired girl was ushered into the cell. "Hello, darling," she said, her voice quivering a little as if she was nervous. Lynx almost ruined the girl's act by frowning, before he realised that this must be some attempt by j'Nialth to get in contact with him, probably to warn him to be quiet while the Thrakallan arranged his release. "I bought you a cake," the girl said, holding out a small plate with a half-eaten chocolate cake on it. 

"We had to taste it though," the security officer cut in. "Check for files and that sort of thing." He waved a flask around in front of Lynx. "Had to confiscate the whiskey too," he grinned. "Pity, it was a really nice drop." His companion laughed at that comment, and then both guards left, shutting and locking the door behind them. 

Lynx waited until he heard their footsteps receding and then turned on the girl. "What is j'Nialth planning?" he whispered urgently. "When do I get out of here?" 

"I don't know," the girl stuttered. "I was just paid to bring you the cake, nothing more. J'Nialth said to give it to you and tell you to eat it." 

"Why?" 

"I don't know," she almost cried. "J'Nialth just said to get you to eat it and you would be out of here soon." 

Lynx could see she was frightened and realising that she was just a Lurker j'Nialth had hired for some reason. "Try some of the cake," he said with an encouraging smile, before adding in a quieter voice, "Make it looks like we are sharing it. We don't want to arouse the guard's suspicions do we now?" 

The girl shook her head and took a slice of the chocolate cake, daintily nibbling at one end, although Lynx could see she was starving and probably hadn't eaten in days. He also picked up a slice and took a bite. It was surprisingly good and he wondered what j'Nialth was up to. Then, he felt a strange numbness affecting him and he realised what was going on. Leaping up, he started banging on the door. He tried to speak, but his tongue was starting to swell and affect his speech. He could see the girl was also similarly effected, clutching at her throat as the poison continued to work its way into her system. Of course, the guards hadn't been affected because j'Nialth had thoughtfully put the antidote in the flask of whisky, knowing it was the first thing the guards would sample. 

Now clawing at his own throat in an attempt to force himself to breathe, Lynx dropped to his knees. 'You bastard, j'Nialth,' he thought, as he collapsed onto the floor of the cold metal cell, his life quickly slipping away as the merciless poison began to eat away at his internal organs. He cursed himself for his stupidity in trusting j'Nialth. He should have been immediately suspicious of anything the Thrakallan sent him, but now it was too late. His breath now a dry rattle, the sound of a quickly approaching death, Lynx Riesel closed his eyes and sank into the darkness and the only comfort he could take in his death was that at least Zack Allan wouldn't have the chance to grill him for information.  

 

 

Aragon Pernimi sat quietly at the bar, sipping a glass of some unidentifiable human beverage... and nursing the worst headache he had ever experienced. He wouldn't have minded so much if it had been due to an excess of alcohol, he would have been used to that. But to have some alien monstrosity attempt to fry his mind, that left him in a very foul mood indeed. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had erected powerful shields to hide him from any telepathic pursuers — he still wasn't sure about that woman. The way she blocked his scan was too easy, she must have possessed telepathic powers and he was sure the humans had at least one telepath on the station — he might not have survived the mental blast at all. 

Sighing, he placed his empty glass down on the bar and slid it towards the greenish-brown blur he assumed was j'Nialth. He still wasn't sure how he had made it here, but suspected that the Thrakallan must have carried him, and he didn't even want to know what he owed the crime lord for that! At least the drink had restored him a little and his vision was beginning to recover. When he had first regained consciousness, he hadn't been able to see a thing, a side effect of such a powerful telepathic assault, but slowly his vision was recovering, along with his other senses. 

J'Nialth's insectoid face swam into view, and for a moment, Aragon almost imagined that he saw a touch of concern on the Thrakallan's impassive features. "Are you better?" j'Nialth asked cautiously, handing the telepath another glass of the peculiar amber liquid. 

Aragon quickly downed the drink, placing the glass back down on the bar. "Much better," he replied, almost smiling. Then his face turned sombre. "What happened?" he asked. 

"You fell," j'Nialth answered. "I bought you here." 

"Why?" 

The Thrakallan paused before answering, reaching down and adjusting something on his translation device. There was a faint click and tiny light on top of the device changed from amber to deep blue. When he spoke again, his voice was now in Centauri instead of English. "I have need of you," he told Aragon. 

Aragon shook his head. "No way," he answered. "I've done what you ask, now I want my ticket off this place. If I stay here, I'll be dead before the week is out." 

"You will be protected," j'Nialth replied, waving his claw to indicate the room around them. 

Aragon glanced around, noticing for the first time the number of security personal in the room. Most were clustered around a series of rectangular tables near the end of the room, hitting multicoloured balls around with long sticks. The lighting was dim and there was the sort of smoky ambiance that he normally associated with bars in the poor quarter on Centauri Prime. "What is this place?" he asked. 

"It is my new bar," j'Nialth answered, a note of pride sneaking past the translator. "Here I will run my business untroubled by ruffians like that fool Lynx." 

"Where is Lynx?" Aragon asked, noticing for the first time that the violent lieutenant seemed to be missing. 

"He is... missing," j'Nialth replied. "Security took him, but my servants disposed of him in his cell. He should be found by them soon. He was no longer useful, but you are." 

"How?"

J'Nialth almost seemed to smile then. Of course, his impassive insectoid face wasn't capable of Centauri facial expressions, but Aragon was sure that if the Thrakallan had possessed a Centauri face then he would have been grinning from ear to ear. He waved one claw around to indicate the room. "Security," he said, pointing to one of the officers. Then he indicated Aragon. "Telepath." While he left Aragon to sort out the details, he filled another glass and handed it across to the telepath. 

"It has possibilities," Aragon mused, accepting the full glass and sitting back to watch the crowd around him. "Mollari would have to go past half the station's security to get to me. I would be as safe as anywhere. But, apart from that, what's in it for me?" 

J'Nialth reached down and retrieved a small box. "Many credits," he promised, opening the box to allow Aragon a glimpse of the glittering gem stones inside. "I saved these," he told the Centauri. "I have sold many stones, but enough remain to make you wealthy... if you agree to my offer." 

Aragon sipped the drink, allowing the bitter liquid to swirl around in his mouth for several seconds before swallowing. He place one hand on the box. "All right, j'Nialth, you have a deal. I will work for you." 

J'Nialth nodded, and left the box with Aragon. Switching his translator back to English and turning up the volume, he attracted the attention of the crowd. "Welcome all to j'Nialth's bar," he said in a booming voice. "It is way of my people to offer gifts to customers during the first day of operations, so for the next two hours all drinks are free!"

With the exception of one young female officer near the door, everyone in the crowded room quickly surged towards the bar. Aragon just smiled, nursing his drink as he carefully removed the wooden box from the bar and placed it on his lap. It looked like things were going to work out after all. 

 

 

Far from Babylon 5, a large vessel slowly picked its way through the hyperspace currents towards Vorlon space. For the moment, it was hidden deep in the chaotic mists of hyperspace, but soon it would emerge into the glare of the Vorlon system's sun. Deep inside the vessel, watching the endless mists of hyperspace swirl past, Jeanne knew that her journey was nearly at an end. Once she stood in the ancient halls on the Vorlon homeworld, their reign would finally be over. She had once worshiped them, then later followed them because their cause seemed just. Now, she would replace them. 

Around her, she could sense a feeling of nervousness from her large companion. She understood the sentient vessel's trepidation. In a way Zater'Enin was the first of his kind. His race had served the Vorlons for so long that they had lost their identity. They had become little more than servants, still sentient, but tied to the whims of their Vorlon masters. Now, finally, they would again be free. Free to hunt, to play, and to roam the stars, much as their ancestors had once roamed the oceans on Vorlon, mighty predators who were unchallenged in their mastery of the seas. 

Now they were tamed, domesticated. Their instinct still remained that of a predator, but the fire that had driven them had been quenched by Vorlon logic. Their forms, once smooth and streamlined, and been twisted by centuries of genetic manipulation to suit their master's desires. Their skins had been hardened and their stingers altered into weapons of mass destruction. But, Jeanne could sense that there was still a part of Zater'Enin that retained the wild, untamed legacy of his ancestors. The way that the fighters had scattered before his approached reminded her of a school of minnows scattering as a larger predatory fish approached. She smiled as she recalled that moment, as it was then that she had finally realised that the warship was ready. 

She had been doubtful, worried that the Vorlons had altered his race too far, leaving nothing behind of what had once existed. But it was still there, buried deep, but still present. Once she released the remainder of his people from their servitude, they would be free to spread out across the galaxy. And they would only be the first. Jeanne had been close to the Vorlons, she knew many of their secrets. There were other races they had altered to serve them, races so close to the Vorlons that they now faltered with their departure. She would rescue them, make them strong and send them out, wondrous additions to the galactic community. 

Then, beyond the Vorlon Empire, in systems uncharted by any of the so-called major races, lived other species, young races with no-one to protect them from the older races. She needed to be there, to save them from exploitation, protect and nurture them as they grew. Then, when they were ready, they too would journey to the stars. The Vorlons had erred when they sought to control the younger race. She would not control, but rather guide and advise, giving every race a chance of life, a chance to make its own mistakes. This would be her legacy, her order, and over the years to come she hoped the humans of Babylon 5 would come to forgive her temporary intrusion into their lives.

 

 

Zack yawned sleepily as he left the Captain's office. It had been a long day, in more ways that one, and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep, if there was such a thing on Babylon 5. Almost on cue, his link beeped. For a moment, he considered not answering it, but eventually he tapped the receive button. 

"Chief?" a familiar voice queried when he didn't answer verbally. "Are you there?" 

"What is it, Aldred?" he asked, recognising the young officer and at the same time recalling that the last time he had seen her had been several hours ago. He struggled to remember what task he had given her, but then she answered for him. 

"I finally found that Centauri you were looking for," she replied, a note of pride creeping into her voice. "He is currently sitting in Alfredo's Pool Hall, talking..." 

"Thanks, Aldred," Zack cut in. "I'll speak to him later. There is no urgency any more." 

"Oh," she replied, sounding disappointed. "I just thought, given the circumstances, you might want to check up on him now." 

"It's too late now," he explained, before her words finally sunk in. "What circumstances?" he demanded. 

"Well, the Thrakallan merchant, j'Nialth, is here as well," she replied. "I haven't seen Alfredo anywhere, so I think j'Nialth may have bought the bar. Then there are those aliens... Bilubi you called them. There are three of them are here as well, serving as waiters of all things. Um... and they're giving away free drinks." 

Zack groaned, looking in askance towards the heavens as if to ask 'Why me?' Just when he had thought things might have been calming down a little, and he could sneak away to his quarters to snatch a few hours sleep before morning, this happened. The idea of two major criminal figures joining forces and buying the closest bar to Security Central — and therefore the most popular bar with off duty security personal — was just about enough to make him cry. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he told her. "Wait there until I arrive, and whatever you do, don't let them leave." 

Closing down the connection, he hurried down the central corridor towards the Zocalo. Although it was now well into the night, the Zocalo was still crowded, especially the bars and restaurants. Manoeuvring his through the crowd, Zack had almost made it past the crowds when a cheerful, not to mention slightly inebriated voice called out to him. Zack looked around and spied Ambassador Vir Cotto sitting at a bar, waving furiously for him to approach. "Let me get you a drink, Mr. Allan," Vir smiled, gesturing to the bartender to bring over another glass. "You look like you've had nearly as hard a day as me."  

"I'm a little busy, Ambassador," Zack said, as he approached. 

Waving away Zack's protests, Vir indicated the empty stool next to him. "Sit, Mr. Allan." As the security chief did so, the bartender approached with a glass of wine and placed it in front of him. Vir waited until the man had left and then leaned in close. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that ship I saw earlier?" he asked, in a voice was little more than a whisper. "I know that I can't ask officially because of the... problem between the Republic and the Alliance, but if the Vorlons are back, my people need to know." 

Zack politely sipped the drink, noting that it was an exceptionally fine red wine from Earth. "I'm afraid we don't know that much," he told Vir. "But it wasn't a Vorlon vessel, at least not anymore. It was just a left over piece of technology from their Empire. The Alliance is looking into why it turned up here and there is nothing for your people to worry about." 

"But..." 

"I'll see if I can send you a copy of what we know," Zack promised, making a mental note to clear that with the captain first. He liked Vir, but he didn't want to put his career in jeopardy because of that friendship "Just don't tell anyone you got it from me," he added with a smile as he stood and was prepared to make his apologies. Then a sudden spark of inspiration struck him. He turned back to Vir. "Ambassador, you wouldn't know a Centauri by the name of Aragon Pernimi would you?" 

"Aragon Pernimi," Vir spluttered, spilling what was left of his drink. "The Aragon Pernimi?" 

"I take it that's a yes? I thought he might be a member of the thieves guild." 

Vir wiped several drops of spilled liquid off his vest. "He's not a member of the thieves guild," he said, shaking his head. "He's the leader of the Immolan branch of the Centauri Guild of Telepaths. They have nearly as much power and influence as some of the older nobles houses and Lord Pernimi is said to be one of their leading lights, a master of considerable power. His fees are said to be among the highest of all Centauri telepaths and he ranks second only to the Grand Master on Centauri Prime. Of course, since last year, no-one has really..." 

The ambassador paused, suddenly becoming aware that he appeared to be talking to himself. He looked over where Zack had been sitting, but all that remained was an overturned stool and a untouched glass of wine. The Centauri ambassador looked carefully around the nearby area, and when he spotted the security chief running full pelt down the corridor leading towards Blue Sector, he shrugged to himself. Picking up Zack's glass, he cautiously examined the dark red liquid inside. "I didn't think it was that bad," he murmured to himself, pouring the remaining wine into his own glass. 


End file.
